


my world starts and ends with you

by honeywaves



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Angst, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, TW: Blood, TW: Mentions of injuries, more characters will appear as the story develops, runaway!beomgyu, thief!yeonjun, tw: mentions of death, tw: mentions of knives / blades, tw: mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywaves/pseuds/honeywaves
Summary: Bright-eyed Beomgyu is young, yet to see how this world is not as rosy hued as he thought. Yeonjun grows up in a rougher part, only knowing how to answer with his knuckles and sarcastic words.When they collide with each other, they forget where their worlds started and ended.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 72
Kudos: 311





	1. starlit ocean

**Author's Note:**

> hey! it's been so long since i last wrote a fic here on ao3 but after writing my socmed au, i realized how much i missed writing here too. i posted this prompt + edit on my twitter before, but if you haven't seen it, [here](https://twitter.com/yeomgyus/status/1254915002860896256?s=19) you go!
> 
> i'm going to try my best to update as much as i can! thank you so much for the love and support. ♡
> 
> dedicated to max (yes, i'm keeping the promise that i gave to you).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Beomgyu runs away from his past, he finds himself getting torn between lingering in his memories and taking risks with a stranger.

Beomgyu glances past the tinted window, seeing the bright lights of Seoul come into view. His bag rests by his feet and he doesn't make a move to pull it closer by his person — the bus is nearly empty, after all. He doesn't have to worry too much.

He doesn't know where exactly he's going. Hell, when he woke up this morning, he didn't have any intention of going anywhere than staying in Daegu.

But he had to leave. He had no choice anymore and he knows that with every second that passes by without him making up his mind about it, he'll slowly descend into the clutches of insanity. The way he had slowly made his way over to his parents' bedroom that afternoon, his heart stuck in his throat, he prayed to the stars that he wouldn't get caught by anyone.

Knowing where his parents kept their emergency money left him with more time to swiftly move to where it was hidden — right by the table tucked in the corner, the second drawer. His fingers were awfully quick in ripping open the compartment, stealing handfuls of bills and jamming them inside his backpack. There were no words to describe the increasing panic burning through his veins, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as his hands shook.

Guilt squeezed his heart right out of his chest but the adrenaline pushed him to safely tuck the money away in his backpack before he shakily puts everything back into place — as if there wasn't any thief that came by. His father and mother were out for their work and the house felt emptier than it usually did.

But he didn't let it bother him, shrugging it off with his throat closing up. Beomgyu's footsteps barely echoed against the wooden floor as he made his way down the stairs, almost slipping at the last step. He had to hold onto the railing until his knuckles turned white before his feet found their way to the familiar porcelain flooring he grew up walking on.

He didn't know how he had done it — one second, he was keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. The next second came like a whirlwind of emotions as he ran down the driveway, not looking back. Not even once did he allow himself to steal a glance at the looming mansion he was leaving behind. Beomgyu hastily buried his phone beneath the trash, knowing that any sort of way his parents could contact him, he'll be found in no time. 

Sitting on a bus on the way to Seoul is the one moment when he finally allowed himself to collapse in the seats, breathing out a deep sigh. His heart was still racing and the rush of blood pounding in his ears was something that he couldn't ignore. But at least he left. At least, he doesn't have to deal with his parents anymore.

Beomgyu continues to stare at the window, eyes wide as he watches the rush of city lights outside. It looks pretty, awfully bright even through the tinted window, but he can't search for the excitement that he thought was buried in his ribcage.

All he could think about are his parents waiting for him, thinking that he's coming back. He didn't breathe out a word to his friends about where he's going — why should he? He doesn't have an ounce of trust when it came to any of them.

The only lingering regret he has in his bones is the fact that he left Taehyun behind.

Taehyun, the one boy who looked up to him with his bright, wide eyes and a smile that constantly drawn itself across his lips. The one who approached him when he first transferred to his school, five years ago. Taehyun, who willingly took the seat beside him and waited patiently for Beomgyu to open up slowly, exposing more and more of his vulnerability. Taehyun, who stuck by his side all throughout; the same boy who he can consider as his best friend. 

He adored him to the ends of the Earth but he can't stay. He doesn't even want to think about Taehyun standing right outside of his house, waiting and waiting so endlessly for him before the news finally reaches him. He knows that Taehyun will be so confused, so overwhelmed with emotions and he hates that he won't be there anymore to reassure the younger boy. 

_I'll call him,_ Beomgyu thinks to himself, his throat closing up as he stares mindlessly ahead. _I'll call him once I reach Seoul. It'll be okay._

The bright lights paint themselves into his line of sight and Beomgyu lays his head against the window, watching the front. Cars sped so fast that his head is spinning as he watches the nightlife come alive — even at a time as late as eleven in the evening, there are so many people scattered around. He can see the way the alcohol bottles thrown at the sidewalks, shards that glimmer beneath the moonlit skies.

Beomgyu had always wanted to see Seoul for himself — his dreams about this city have long since been shards of memories that he could make here. Drunk on the adrenaline with the alcohol in his veins, his heart feeling lighter than ever as he runs through the streets. He could see it; he could see himself walking down the sidewalks at two in the morning, footsteps a little wobbly but he looks happy. Cheeks flushed and wide smile painted across his lips as every care that used to reside in his body left him.

Can he still achieve that, even as an nineteen year old boy? A boy who no longer has a home to come back to?

 _I'll be okay, I can survive._ He thinks to himself, his eyes falling shut as the darkness blankets his vision. All his life, he's been shielded by his parents, tucked by and kept away from harm's way. But he's older now — he can take care of himself well enough now.

Tonight will be the startline of his dreams. A resurrection of brokenness and lonely nights, stretching them thin until he's sure that he's lost himself in the adrenaline rush and alcohol in a city that never seems to sleep.

He's so in deep in his thoughts that he didn't feel the way the bus slowly rolls into a stop. The metal creaks as the tires drag themselves against the pavement — his eyes flutter open as he takes in the sight of the bus stop through the tinted window. The few people left within the vehicle began to stand, making their way exhaustingly over to the front before making their way down the steps. 

Beomgyu can feel his heart racing beneath his chest, a distinct sound of his blood rushing to his ears and pounding so heavily that it drowns out everything else. He stumbles right out of his seat, hands hastily picking up the backpack from the ground and holding it against his chest. His heart is beating, like a stampede of elephants that resonates within his ribcage as he hikes the strap along his shoulder.

His movements are quick and sharp, seeing how the ride hasn't caused the adrenaline rush to fade. As he makes his way down the steps, the moment his feet hit the pavement, his heart stops in its place. The city sounds louder, looks so much brighter like this — it's so achingly overwhelming that Beomgyu has to stop to take it all in. He stares at the city lights hanging above his head, watching as the people gaze at them like they're falling stars from the skies.

Beomgyu is too drawn in by the overwhelming thought of being alone in a bright city like this, that he fails to realize that he's been standing for far too long by the steps. "Hey, kid." He snaps out of his thoughts, hearing the rough voice behind as him as he faces an older man glaring right at him, "You're blocking my way. Move."

"Sorry," Beomgyu murmurs as he finally steps away, walking steadily until he ends up by the bus shelter. The man stares at him with a frown written across his lips grumbling right under his breath as he shakes his head.

"Stupid kids. Shouldn't even be out this late."

Beomgyu holds back himself from answering the man, choosing to shrug it off. A stranger like him can't get rid of the excitement that's slowly bursting through his chest. His head is spinning as he walks down the sidewalk, glancing around so hastily. There's still so many stores open and clubs that have awfully bass booted songs echoing all too loudly but Beomgyu doesn't care.

He's finally here, right here in Seoul. The city where he'll never leave, no matter what happens.

Seoul will finally be the startline of all his dreams.

Nothing's holding him back anymore. 

* * *

Beomgyu doesn't know how long he's been falling asleep in benches in the park or how much time has passed since he watched the sun rise and fall beyond the horizon. The sight is always so achingly pretty — hues of bright red, orange paint themselves along the skies when it's the sunrise whilst pink streaks colors themselves in the once blue sky once the sun finally sets for the day.

He's numb from the taste of alcohol on his tongue; this is the first time for him to drink. Two bottles in and he's swaying, giggling to himself as the rush of happiness fills him up like no other. Beomgyu feels like he's on top of the world, with no worries left lingering in his bones.

But sometimes, in moments like this when the night has fallen silent, he finds his mind drifting back to Daegu. Everything that he hastily left behind without a second thought, only because of his parents' expectations rendering him speechless.

 _You should follow in our footsteps._ He can hear his father's voice echoing in his head, a replay of his memories in his head whenever the alcohol courses itself through his veins. He can even see him sometimes — always sitting on the seat at the very head of the table, reading the newspaper. Never once making eye contact with Beomgyu when the boy makes his way to his own seat for breakfast. _We have so much expectations for you, Beomgyu. You're the only one left in line that can keep our business alive._

 _Marry a nice girl too, while you're at it._ His mother would always chime in, her voice airy and light though her words never once failed to weigh themselves heavily in Beomgyu's chest. _There's so many nice girls that we can introduce you to._ Then he'll hear the quiet voice of his mother, one that only he can hear. 

_It's nice to have a family that you can always come home to._

Beomgyu wants to laugh at her words — he never wanted to follow through with his parents' expectations of him. He doesn't want to be the same stoic and cold man that calls himself his father; how can someone be so merciless in business, taking away jobs whenever he can because their lives are always on the tips of his fingers.

And a girl? Beomgyu has never liked girls; it didn't mean that he didn't try loving someone before. But it never worked out with her, not when he never felt that ache that he's constantly searching for. 

He's been trying to convince himself for so long that he likes girls — he likes them with an ache in his chest. But the first time a boy kissed him, Beomgyu could never forget the way his breath was taken away almost immediately. Or the way his knees are knocking against each other as the nerves run through his body. He still remembers the laugh coming from the boy, telling him that he shouldn't be so nervous. Beomgyu let himself go that night, kissing another boy in a way that he could never kiss a girl like that. 

At that moment, he knew right then and there that he wanted to break free from what his parents expected from him. He likes boys and that's something that he shouldn't be ashamed about. He likes art, books, music — god, he loves music with a longingness that can only be filled up whenever he picks up his guitar and sings. But he rarely did it, only choosing to let his hand feel the weight of his guitar in the middle of the night, when he feels like he's forgetting a part of himself that he grew to love. 

Beomgyu always knew love like it came with bruised knuckles and grazed knees. He knew love, like it always came with a surge of pain that he never wanted to experience.

He can't say he ever loved someone like that before. The closest he can come to is what he feels for Taehyun — a deep, longing ache to have a friend who's there by your side. Adoring him, despite how many mistakes you two make.

"Oh, fuck." He curses out loud, shaking his head as he straightens in his seat. Stumbling right out of the bench, he hugs the backpack against his chest as a wave of dizziness hits him. As much as he wants to stop, his need to call Taehyun and talk to him is so much stronger.

"I need to call him," Beomgyu speaks to himself, feeling the ache grow stronger at the thought of Taehyun worrying about him. "I need to let him know that I'm okay."

He doesn't know where he's going — he's stumbling right through the streets as the city lights begin to make his head hurt even more. His throat feels drier as he hastily opens his backpack, taking out a bottle of water. Even unscrewing the cap feels like it's such a difficult task as he tips his head, downing at least half of it.

Beomgyu doesn't stop walking as he screws the cap back on, forcing the bottle back inside the bag. The headache is slowly starting to dissipate but the adrenaline is also beginning to fade, making him realize how exhausted he is. But he can't stop, not when he's sure that Taehyun is all right, that he can give one last reassurance to him.

He needs to find a payphone somewhere so he can call him up. With that thought lingering in his head, he mindlessly begins searching the streets, too afraid to ask the crowd rushing past him. What if someone recognizes him? It's such an odd thing to worry about but he doesn't want to draw any attention to himself — it's already troublesome for him that he drank alcohol beforehand so he's still feeling the lingering effects of it in his veins.

But he can't keep walking like this, not when his feet are aching and he's still dizzy. He finds his way to an alleyway, an even more unfamiliar part for him as he stumbles right into it. His feet drag themselves past the rough line of chalk drawn across the pavement, sitting right against the wall as he rests the back of his head on it.

All he wanted to do is to take a breather, to clear his head and untangle the anxieties left within his chest. That's really all that he planned to do. But he never really expected the sound of feet against the concrete ground, echoing so distinctly because of the heavy boots and the faded sound of rushing cars and music in the streets. 

As Beomgyu lifts his head, his heart stops right in his chest. He no longer hears the rush of blood in his ears or the way his heart starts to erratically throw itself against his ribcage. He can't move nor can he breathe as he stares at three boys who seem to be at least five years older than him.

"What—" He can't finish his words as he feels himself getting lifted to his feet, his eyes wide as he sees a glint of a blade glimmering beneath the moonlight. The panic rises to his head, rushing through his veins as he feels himself being pushed roughly against the wall, the blade coming in contact with his throat.

"Look, kid," There's a smirk written across the man's lips and Beomgyu can feel himself shaking in fear as he sees the lack of remorse in the other's gaze. "Let's not make a mess here, all right? Just give us your money and we'll let you go."

Beomgyu, despite the fear running through his veins, still finds himself slowly shaking his head as the tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "N-No."

"What?"

"I said," He breathes out, trying to put on a brave front but he can feel himself still getting weak at the press of the blade against his skin, "No. I won't— I won't give you my money."

"Fuck," He can hear the one on the right curse out loud, roughly kicking a rock on the ground, "Do we really have to stay like this? Let's just ki—"

"We're not having someone else's blood on our hands. Didn't boss say that we need to lie low for now?"

"Oh, fuck off."

Beomgyu can see them getting briefly distracted, taking the opportunity to at least try and slip out of the man's grip. But when he moves slightly, he can feel the blade digging even more, almost hurting him as the tears start to make his vision blurry. He's so scared — he only heard stories of this in the news. Some people tend to meet their unfortunate end like this, bodies even thrown so carelessly until another soul stumbles right into them.

He doesn't want to end up like this. Not tonight, not when he still has to talk to Taehyun.

But even before he can part his lips to let out a cry, he hears another distinct sound of heavy boots moving closer, the pavement's loose rocks crunching beneath the soles. He can't turn his head without possibly injuring himself so he can't see who stumbled right into the same alleyway.

"What are you three doing here?"

From the voice alone, the three thieves stiffen almost immediately as they spare the intruder a glance. Beomgyu can feel the blade loosening slightly, just enough for him to steal a glance at the boy standing right by the entrance.

Fox-like eyes stare at the three men, his expression void of any emotions before a smirk eventually curves upon his lips as he takes a step closer. His hair is a dark shade of blue, easily making him stand out in a crowd, just from his handsome but rogue features alone. He crosses the rough chalked line, standing perfectly still as his gaze flickers from each thief before his eyes finally fall on Beomgyu. Hope flickers in Beomgyu but it fades all too quickly when he sees the lack of empathy on his features.

 _No, no. I can't die in here. Not yet._ Beomgyu sinks his teeth onto his lower lip to stop himself from bursting into tears, shaking his head. He's still afraid as he gazes at the other man, hoping that he'll take pity on him.

But the blue haired boy never spares him another glance, choosing to keep his gaze pinned on the other thieves. The void of emotions on his features is disturbing for Beomgyu, the worry coursing itself through his veins at what this boy is capable of doing. 

"I asked," He speaks again, the smirk fading away as a frown crosses his lips instead. His voice is awfully cold and firm, as he stares down at the other men. "What are you doing here?" He slowly crosses the distance between them, his footsteps echoing loudly as his gaze pins them in their place.

"Do you not know whose territory this is?" 

Slowly, his gaze flickers from each and every thief standing right in front of him, as if he's analyzing their features. The man who's holding onto Beomgyu suddenly backs away, dropping the boy roughly to the ground. Beomgyu lets out a cough, a shiver running down his spine as he fixes himself up to sit against the wall. He can feel the blue haired man's gaze fixated upon him for a moment, an eyebrow arching at his direction before he switches his attention back to the thieves. 

"Don't touch him," He speaks, every syllable wrapped with venom as he narrows his eyes at them. His dark gaze falls on the blade that one of the men is holding, a flicker of a smirk curving upon his lips before it disappears as he stares back at them again. "Unless you'd rather have that knife pressed against your throat instead." 

He steps closer and the men back away almost immediately. He shows no flicker of emotions on his expression as he raises his head. His words feel like a heavy warning, making Beomgyu even more afraid of what he meant. 

"Don't test me. You know what I'm capable of." 

With a shaky nod coming from the three, they hastily slipped past him. The blue haired boy stands there, letting the two escape without a scratch. But he seems to have a change of mind when he suddenly reaches out to grab hold of the third thief's shoulder, roughly throwing a punch against his cheek. 

He shakes his hand, checking his knuckles as he lets the boy fall to the ground with a whimper at the unexpected impact. Beomgyu holds his breath, watching him with wide eyes as the blue haired boy sinks down, pointing at the roughly drawn chalked line a few inches away. 

"How many times do I have to tell you not to cross the line? Ah, it's like you're asking for a beating from me," He rans his fingers through his blue strands, gaze fixated on the fallen boy with an amused smirk painted across his features, "Is that what you want?" 

All he receives is a quick shake of the other boy's head as his eyes show a flicker of fear. A sigh falls from his lips, standing up as he delivers a harsh blow against the thief's stomach before he points past the alley.

"Get out of here while I'm still playing nice." 

Beomgyu watches how the thief hurriedly stands from his position, wincing for a moment as he clutches his stomach but he pushes himself to stumble right out of the alley. There's still a lingering fear in his body as he fixates his gaze on blue haired boy. He sees the way he finally relaxes, as if putting up the front is exhausting as he turns on his heel.

Their gazes lock on each other and Beomgyu can feel his throat close. There's something about the way the blue haired boy is staring at him — a flicker of emotions that slip by too fast that Beomgyu couldn't decipher even one of them. He's afraid to speak, the words dying on his lips as he numbly sits against the wall. He doesn't make any move to leave, making the other boy raise a brow at his behavior as he crosses the distance between them.

Though the darkness has long since blanketed over their bodies, he can see the flicker of moonlight that hits the blue haired man's features. He looks absolutely ethereal — dark blue hair falling over his eyes before he brushes the strands away. Fox-like eyes that stay focused on him, curiosity finally taking hold of his expression as he pauses right in front of him.

As he steps closer, Beomgyu can see the scar that ran under his right and down his cheek. The scar looks faded, a dark line running across his skin but somehow, Beomgyu's interest is piqued at the sight of it. He wonders what's his story for a moment — almost forgetting that the man standing before him seems to be _feared_. His voice alone causes shivers to run down the spines of other people and his reputation is enough for people to stumble away as far as they could.

Who is this boy?

Once the thought falls upon him on who this man might be — he finds himself closing his eyes quickly, shifting closer against the wall. He curls up, face buried in his hands as he catches his breath, murmuring pleas of _please don't kill me_ and _I swear, I'm not a bad person_. Pleas that sound more and more like a prayer as they fall from the edges of his mouth.

"Get up."

He hears the firmness in the other's voice and Beomgyu stiffens, hurrying to follow his words. He still ends up pressed against the wall, arms wrapped around his own frame as he shakes. He feels so much smaller like this though he's sure that the other boy is barely taller than him.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Beomgyu hears the question, stealing his attention away so effectively. He hears the amusement dripping from the man's voice. With a deep breath, he finally opens his eyes as he stares back at the dark gaze fixated on him. Caught breathless by his beauty, he parts his lips, only to fall silent as he eventually closes his mouth.

He's feeling more and more like an idiot as the minutes stretch themselves thin. It must be the same thought that the other is having because after a moment of silence, he heaves a frustrated sigh as he slips his hands in his pockets.

"It's useless to talk to you." 

The other boy is already spinning on his heel, ready to leave him alone. Exactly as what Beomgyu would have wanted him to do. But as his gaze falls on his back, he feels the urge to reach out and stop him from walking away. 

And that's exactly what he ends up doing. 

Beomgyu rushes after him, feet moving quickly as his fingers brush against the fabric of his jacket. They curl around the clothing, forcefully stopping him from walking away completely. He can see the boy turns around to glance at him, furrowed eyebrows and his still dark gaze focused on Beomgyu.

He knows that he's afraid. He knows that he _should_ be afraid. Yet, there's a strange longingness that delves deep within his ribcage, eyes flickering to stare at him with a strange amount of trust. He doesn't know why he's feeling like this towards a boy who supposedly stopped three men from hurting him — but he can't stop the words from falling past his lips nevertheless.

"Thank you," Beomgyu finally speaks up, his voice soft and gentle. A quite striking contrast to the way his fingers are twitching from the fear and anxiety coursing through his veins. "For saving me. It means a lot."

"I didn't do it for you," The blue haired stranger fires back almost immediately, his voice going cold though the annoyance streaks itself across his features. "Everyone knows that there are territories that you shouldn't cross. And yet, they crossed mine so willingly." He pauses, mumbling under his breath with frustration wrapping around his words. "Fucking idiots."

"Still, thank you."

All he receives in response is the boy shrugging him off, still mildly annoyed at his presence. "Whatever. Go back home, kid. It's dangerous out here."

 _Home_. Beomgyu doesn't know where he can go back home — he's been running away for so long. He can't find a way to trace his footsteps back to his parents, his friends. All he's worrying about is Taehyun—

His throat feels like it's going to close up as he shakes away his anxieties, blinking rapidly as he tightens his hold on the other boy's jacket. "I don't know where to go," He admits out loud, the fear coursing itself through his veins even more. "I ran away from home and I took the bus to here."

That seems to catch the boy's attention, finally turning to him as he shrugs off Beomgyu's grip on his jacket. He narrows his gaze at him though he's certainly intrigued as he steps closer to close the distance between them. "Why?"

"I," Beomgyu pauses as he sinks his teeth onto his lower lip, looking more and more hesitant before he breathes out a sigh as he fixates his gaze on the other boy, "I couldn't handle the pressure from my parents anymore. They wanted me to follow their footsteps, get into their business and get married to some rich girl." He shakes his head, his voice becoming softer as he wraps his arms around his own figure.

"I don't want that."

The blue haired boy barks out a laugh, running a hand through his dark blue strands before he stares at the other boy in disbelief. His gaze runs down his frame, a soft _tsk_ leaving past his lips. "And you thought that running all the way to this part of Seoul would be better?" Sarcasm drips from the edge of his voice, his eyes going dark as the edge presents itself in his tone.

"Kid, go back home. At least there, you have a family you can come back to." 

There's a twinge of sadness beneath his words and Beomgyu is quick to sense it. The blue haired doesn't say anything else, his voice rigid and firm as always though after a moment, he looks like he wanted to say something. But he shakes his head afterwards, already on his way to leave the alley instead.

What stops him from walking away completely once again is the way Beomgyu answers him. 

"No, I don't want to." 

He pauses, back turned on Beomgyu as he stands right in front of the line. He doesn't bother turning around so Beomgyu can't catch a glimpse of his expression but he knows that he caught the other boy by surprise. 

"What?"

"Can I," Beomgyu swallows his pride, clutching his backpack that seemed to have fallen on the ground. There's a flicker of desperation on his features but he doesn't even bother hiding what he feels right now.

"Can I stay with you?"

The question forces the blue haired boy to finally incline his head, staring at him before he turns to him with a narrowed gaze. He's tongue-tied for the first time since the very second their gazes met a moment ago — when Beomgyu had a knife pressed against his throat whilst he stood inches away with a frown. 

"You're kidding me, aren't you?"

"I'm not." 

"You're not?" He bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he heaves out a sigh as he steps closer once again. He stands taller than Beomgyu, easily intimidating the other boy as Beomgyu shrinks naturally under his gaze. Something about him radiates intimidation and confidence — you wouldn't be able to stand tall if he's around. 

"That's stupid," He scoffs, looking more and more in disbelief at the other boy's proposition. "Thought that rich kids like you must have at least some common sense, no?" 

His words are wrapped around with sarcasm and harsh tones, making Beomgyu wince. Out of instinct, he flinches as he steps back, failing to catch sight of the flicker of guilt on the other boy's expression. Beomgyu swallows the lump in his throat as he stares at his shoes. His voice is soft as the words slip by his lips, unable to lift his head to gaze at him directly.

"Can I at least use your phone?" He murmurs, tightening his hold around his backpack slightly, "I need to call someone." When he raises his head, he can see the uncertainty on the blue haired boy's expression so he hurriedly says, "It'll be quick, I promise."

A beat of silence passes by before the boy heaves out a sigh, nodding his head as he reaches for his phone, unlocking it and throwing it in his direction. Beomgyu clutches onto it tightly like it's a lifeline as he turns away, dialing Taehyun's number without any moment of hesitation. It rings relentlessly in his hand as he nervously places it against his ear, catching his breath.

He doesn't know how long has it been since he left Daegu without looking back. How long has it been since Taehyun found out? Does he even know that Beomgyu left? Or what if, this whole time that Beomgyu was spiraling and thinking that Taehyun was worrying about him, the younger boy didn't care enough—

"Hello?" Beomgyu stiffens at the sound of Taehyun's tired voice through his phone. There's an ache in his chest that makes him want to burst into tears — he feels so sorry, so incredibly guilty right now. 

"Taehyun? It's me," He speaks, feeling his throat tighten as he takes a moment to calm down the erratic beating of his heart, "It's me, Beomgyu." 

"What?" His voice comes out hoarse, rougher as the words escape so fast that Beomgyu almost misses the anger hidden beneath them, "Don't lie to me. This isn't a joke — I've been trying to find him for three days. I can't reach him anymore. I—" His words dissipate as sobs escape past his lips and the sound itself drives the stake of guilt into Beomgyu's chest.

Three days. He's been gone for _three_ days, trying to live his life in Seoul without even telling Taehyun where he had gone. God, he really doesn't deserve him.

"It's me, Taehyun." He pushes, voice shaky as he closes his eyes, pressing it against his ear as he stands there. A shiver runs down his spine as he tries not to burst into tears but it's so difficult, especially when he hears the hitch in Taehyun's breathing through the phone.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry—" _I've been such a bad friend to you. I don't deserve you._ "I should've told you where I was."

"Where are you, hyung?" The panic rises in Taehyun's voice and he can hear a bed creaking and footsteps resonating against the wooden floor, "Tell me and I'll head over there to pick you up—"

"No, listen, I really left on my own. It's my decision." He hears the way Taehyun stops walking, probably awaiting for his next words so Beomgyu pushes though his words become softer, gentler. "I'm in Seoul right now. I'm only using someone else's phone so I can call you up and let you know that I'm okay."

It's quiet, so awfully silent on the other line before Taehyun finally speaks. "Your parents are worried about you, hyung. Should I let them know where you are?"

"No, don't." Beomgyu knows that he's wrong here but he doesn't want to be found right now. There's a risk of being found if he lets his parents have a hint in knowing where he is — this is the only way he can get the freedom that he's been chasing after for so many years already. 

It's all that he truly wants.

"Don't tell them, okay?" He pauses, his tone laced with desperation. It's sickening to know that Taehyun would do anything for him but right now, it's what he needs. "Please, Taehyunnie?" 

There's such a long stretch of silence between their conversation that Beomgyu fears that Taehyun has dropped the call. But as he starts to pull the phone away from his ear, he hears the younger boy's voice slip through, his tone resolute and firm. 

"Okay, hyung. I promise. But you need to let me know how you're doing every now and then, alright?" 

"Oh, god. Thank you so much, Taehyun." He murmurs a silent prayer to the stars for listening to him before he nods his head, despite knowing that Taehyun isn't seeing him right now. "I promise I'll call you."

"Good." There's another stretch of silence before Taehyun speaks, his voice quivering through the line. "I really wished that you let me know beforehand that you're leaving. At least, I could've said goodbye to you." He sounds so upset and Beomgyu knows that he's the sole reason why his best friend is like that. God, the guilt is going to eat him up one day. 

"Take care, hyung. Maybe one day, I can slip away and visit you." His voice becomes softer that Beomgyu almost misses the words that he says, "Or maybe you'll come back home here."

He doesn't speak, choosing to ignore his words for now. He can't tell him that he never wants to come back to Daegu — for the first time in his life, he feels absolutely _free_. 

Free from any judgment, from any lingering regret in his veins. The ache that's been in his chest for so long is no longer there, replacing it with a tender and soothing happiness that resides within him. But he doesn't say anything to Taehyun, knowing that his words could easily cause a strike in the younger boy's heart and he doesn't want him to feel even more hurt. 

"Take care of yourself too." He never says what he truly feels but this time, the words manage to leave his lips faster than he could stop hinself. "I love you, Taehyunnie."

There's another beat of silence before a laugh echoes through the line. It sounds light and airy, the same familiar laugh that Beomgyu had gotten used to for the past months and years that they've been together.

"I love you too, hyung."

He quietly pulls the phone away, letting out a deep breath before dropping the call. A saddened smile graces his lips as he stares at the phone for too long, only realizing that it's not his when it slips right out of his grasp so easily. He raises his head, watching as the blue haired boy pockets his phone, arching a brow as he stares Beomgyu's disheveled state.

"You really don't want to go home, don't you?"

"How can I go home," Beomgyu emits a laugh but it sounds hollow and empty, so achingly sad as he shakes his head, "When that place never felt like home for me?"

The boy standing in front of him, for the first time since they crossed paths, doesn't say anything as he chooses to keep his mouth shut. Beomgyu doesn't miss the look of sympathy that he receives from him for a brief second before it dissolves into nothing. They stare at each other for a long stretch of moment before the blue haired stranger breaks it with a question that's been lingering in his mind. "Where are you staying tonight?"

A corner of Beomgyu's lips lift upwards to form a half smile as he wraps his arms around his own frame, "Wherever that is free and comfortable for the night. How can I be choosy when I brought this onto myself, right?"

"Huh, no wonder you asked me if you could stay with me," A scoff falls from his lips but he sounds much less hostile as he heaves out a sigh. He looks uncertain, running a hand through his blue strands as he keeps his other hand pocketed in his dark jeans.

"You're too trusting, kid." He lowers his tone into a murmur as his eyes lay upon Beomgyu to stare at him for a long moment, "That's dangerous. You don't even know my name and yet, you're asking me—"

"My name is Beomgyu. Choi Beomgyu."

That seems to stop the blue haired boy from talking, clearly caught off guard by his sudden introduction. Beomgyu can see the flicker of emotions in his eyes once again under the star-drunk skies; he'll never say it out loud but somehow, his heart feels like it's going to explode right through his ribcage.

The little attempt causes the taller man to let out a low laugh, blue strands falling over his eyes as he brushes them away, "Do you think that I'll give you my name after you let me know what's yours?"

"It's the courteous thing to do, isn't it?"

There's a faint smirk that curves upon the other boy's lips and Beomgyu knew right then and there that he convinced him. Another laugh spills from his lips and once again, Beomgyu can feel the flutter of the butterflies' wings in his chest, rendering him breathless as he watches the other boy stretch his hand out to him.

This almost feels like a dream, a strange chain of events that shouldn't happen. And yet, here they are — his hand warm against the stranger's, whose smile that lit up brighter than the stars and city lights hanging over their heads.

"Yeonjun," He speaks and Beomgyu sees the universe's worth of stars in the other boy's eyes as he finally smiles right at him.

"Choi Yeonjun." 


	2. blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (tw : mentions of violence, death, injuries, blood). 
> 
> Yeonjun has never thought of himself as someone good. Not even as he lets a stranger like Beomgyu walk into his life and mess him up.

Yeonjun has never thought himself to be good.

He can't even say that he knows exactly what it means to be good — the thin line of morality has long since been so blurred for him. The moment he felt the thrill through his veins when his fingers brushed against the cold hard cash, feeling its weight in his hands, he knew. The moment he didn't hesitate to slip his fingers in somebody else's pockets and let the weight of the coins and bills rest upon his palms, he knew.

He knew that he was wrong at one point of his life. He knew that he shouldn't be doing this — hiding beneath shadows and holding his breath, heart racing beneath his chest as he watches the police's gaze search for him in every corner. He knew that he should feel the rush of guilt every time he does this, bearing the mistake in his consciousness.

But he never felt the guilt. He never felt the regret wrapping its fingers around his throat, rendering him breathless. Instead, he felt so excited, like a predator prowling through the streets. Fear drives him to chase after that adrenaline running through its course in his body.

Perhaps, it's because of the rough edges in his childhood, constantly reminding him that he's always going to be the same troubled kid that he was when growing up. How can he not be like that? He never had the chance to feel the warmth of his mother's love, not when he bore witness to the news of hearing her death streaked along the streets. Hushed whispers among his family's friends that she was murdered in cold blood, one night when she was on her way home after carrying a plastic bag with bread stuffed inside. As the rumors have said, the police have mistaken her as a criminal, aiming a gun right at her. 

It still haunts Yeonjun to this day — the thoughts of his mother walking down the streets in the bite of the cold, eager to get home to him. Never knowing that she will not be able to feel the warmth of Yeonjun's embrace. He'll never get to wrap his thoughts around the fact that she was thoroughly mistaken as a criminal when she was nothing but a frail woman, ready to collapse from the exhaustion she felt. She was powerless against a weapon that was directed at her and yet, she never had the chance to defend herself. Her blood will always stain that officer's palms but from rumors floating around, he didn't seem to care enough. 

Certainly it didn't help that Yeonjun, as young as seven years old, had a gun aimed right at him too when he first felt the thrill of stealing. That was the only time he felt the fear kick through his veins, his head spinning from how overwhelming his thoughts were. All he could remember was the sight of the cold metallic opening, knowing that he could have easily met the same fate of his mother. 

Yeonjun knew that it's not normal to accept his death so easily when he's still so absurdly young. As he stood there, he realized that he didn't care if the breath would get knocked out of his lungs that night. But he never did feel the bite of the bullet on his skin — he felt the rough push against his scrawny build, an officer telling him that he should leave before he does end up hurting him. Yeonjun never ran so fast before, little legs pumping as he slipped through unknown alleyways as the rush of blood pounded in his ears. 

When he collapsed in a familiar, empty parking lot, his little body fell against the pavement as he caught his breath. Cheeks flushed and his body shivering, he felt the way his pockets weighed heavier than usual. Taking out the coins, he allowed himself to relish in the feeling of the cold metal against his palm — a reminder that this was the only time he ever felt alive. 

His memories became a blur that he didn't seem to bother to pull apart anymore. He drifted through orphanages after that, never quite getting attached despite all the boys and girls that have clung to him. He never felt any sort of affection for anyone else, further convincing himself that maybe, he already reached the verge of breaking down.

Yeonjun felt like he was fucked up already, like he was incapable of feeling anything for anyone. He was already on the wrong side of the law and the blood staining his hands is a sight that no longer bothers him.

But stumbling into the same alleyway that he's been keeping an eye on for years, he never felt like this before. He thought that the only emotion that burst through his chest was nothing short of annoyance at those three thieves that constantly cross the boundaries that he set already. But when he saw the glint of the knife under the light of the moon, he felt the rush of anger through his veins.

He had no idea why he felt like this — there was a sense of possessiveness within him, a need to stop what was going to happen to the boy. Yeonjun didn't know his name and he supposedly thought that he didn't care enough for it. But he couldn't deny that the time had stood still that moment when their gazes flicker over to each other.

For the first time in such an achingly long time, Yeonjun could feel the way his heartstrings were harshly tugged on. His head was spinning, thoughts overwhelming him once again but he didn't let himself go. It was odd; he never thought that he would feel the need to protect someone else, to not see the blood spill upon the streets of the little alleyway in Seoul.

Nobody would've seen them that night. Hell, he could easily be the one who held the knife instead, see the fear run through the boy's gaze. 

But instead, he finds himself right here, walking right beside him along the streets of Seoul as the silence descends upon their heads. It was a quiet reminder of how late it was and how his pockets, for the first time since this kind of life started, felt so strangely empty.

It was almost ludicrous to think that the same boy that he could have easily stolen from is with him, their footsteps falling in sync.

"Do you live alone?" 

Beomgyu speaks up, his backpack swinging slightly as the strap hangs on his shoulder. Yeonjun casts a glance at it, resisting every urge that he has to reach out and let his fleeting fingers find anything valuable within it. He takes a deep breath and finally fixates his darkened eyes on the younger boy, turning his head away. 

"Why is that a question?" 

"Because," Beomgyu becomes flushed under the moonlight, unknowingly straightening his back to appear a little more confident. But Yeonjun is smart in a way that it didn't slip from his gaze, the way the other boy nervously sinks his teeth onto his lower lip. The little action has him arching a brow though he doesn't say anything, only choosing to slow down his footsteps and eventually forcing Beomgyu to do the same. 

"I was curious. If, you know, you ever had to live with someone else before." 

Yeonjun is quiet for a long stretch of time as they walk beneath the flickering streetlights. He takes a deep breath, slipping his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he stares straight ahead, "Of course I know the feeling of sharing space with someone else before." As he spares a glance at the boy's side profile, he curves his lips into a slight smile. 

"But I haven't lived with anyone else for so long." 

Beomgyu falls silent beside him before he tilts his head at him, "Does it get lonely?" 

The question catches the blue haired male off guard, halting his steps beneath another streetlight. As he finally turns to face Beomgyu, he can see the way the weak light still captures the boy's delicate features, making him look absolutely... _pretty_. 

With a face like that, he's sure that Beomgyu earned so much attention everywhere he went before. Even now, with his starry eyes falling upon Yeonjun as he awaits his answers, searching his expression very carefully, he looks so pretty. It's almost too distracting for Yeonjun, taking up the male's energy as he turns his head with a scowl. 

"Yeonjun?" 

His voice drips like honey at the edge, his name spilling from Beomgyu's lips like a song that makes his heart pound in his chest. The frown twists harder on the edges of his mouth, letting his feet hurriedly start walking down the sidewalk. Beomgyu is taken aback by his odd actions though he follows suit, lagging behind with only a few steps between them. 

"It does," Yeonjun finally says after a moment, slowing down before he finally stops once again. The street is empty, void of any other souls with them as being the only exemption to it. He turns on his heel, his expression softening just the slightest. A silver of vulnerability that he never expected himself to show to nearly a stranger that he only knows the name of. 

"But I'm used to it. Don't worry."

He didn't even get to take another step before Beomgyu speaks up, his voice lighter and his words ached.

"You don't have to get used to that anymore," The dark haired boy's words lay a tender ache against Yeonjun's chest as he turns around, their gazes focused on each other only. A wide smile tugs on the corners of Beomgyu's lips and though Yeonjun would never say it out loud, he looks so much brighter than the stars hanging in the night sky above their heads.

"I'm right here."

It takes such a long, long stretch of time before a flicker of a smile appears upon Yeonjun's lips. He turns right back to the front, walking in the direction of the rundown apartment complex nearby. When he speaks again, he doesn't see the way the smile on Beomgyu's lips becomes so much brighter — and it's all because of him.

"I know."

* * *

Yeonjun has never felt so much ache in his body before. He can feel it running like blood in his veins, a heavy weight against his chest. For once in his life, he wants to collapse in his bed and sleep the day away without caring about anything else. 

But as he spares another glance at the dark haired boy right beside him, he's reminded of the fact that it's no longer just him. The little comfort that he allows himself in his apartment will be filled up with somebody else — god, is he making a mistake? He wants to laugh at himself right now; hell, how did he even get roped in this situation? 

Beomgyu is supposed to be no one to him. They weren't supposed to cross paths tonight at all. 

Yeonjun wonders about so many what-ifs about his situation right now — what if he didn't leave his apartment for today? Would he have seen the other boy's blood staining the bricked wall, seeping down the pavement? Would Beomgyu survive that attack all on his own? 

If he's being honest, Beomgyu would've left that street, either injured or dead. From the moment he crossed the distance between them, Yeonjun didn't miss the way the fading smell of alcohol from Beomgyu. Fighting off three thieves when the alcohol is running through your veins isn't such an ideal situation to get stuck in. There's such an infinitesimal chance of Beomgyu getting out alive in that situation.

But even then, is this right? That he's letting a stranger slip through the door of his apartment and make himself home? Only because he saved him from death's grip? 

Yeonjun sinks his teeth onto his lower lip as they make their way into the almost rundown building. There are spider cracks running across the walls but even then, Yeonjun isn't exactly picky. Any roof above his head and a bed to lay down every night are all that he would ever need.

It's not like this is home for him.

Though even with all of that, Beomgyu doesn't lose the bounce in his steps, the starry light in his dark eyes. Dark hair ruffled as he runs his fingers through the strands, staring right at the entrance for a moment before he nods quietly to himself and steps past the doors. It's strangely endearing to see a teenager like him, out into the world and slowly realizing that the rosy hues have faded away the edges of his vision. 

Yeonjun follows right behind, their footsteps falling in sync as they resonate within the empty hallways. "Which floor are you on?" Beomgyu suddenly speaks up as he falls still in front of the staircase. He glances over his shoulder, catching Yeonjun off guard at how close they are, forcing him to take a step back to leave some distance between them. 

"Third." 

"Tsk," Beomgyu clicks his tongue in distaste, already on his way to walking up the steps, "Are you always this quiet?" 

"Only when someone is annoying." 

The dark haired boy only curves the corners of his lips into a faint smirk, words no longer falling from his tiers. He continues to walk right up the stairs as Yeonjun falls in step with them — the sound of their worn out sneakers pressing against the concrete.

Despite expressing his annoyance at the other boy, Yeonjun can't help but let his eyes linger on his features, carefully tracing them out with the moonlight filtering through the window. Beomgyu is too fragile and delicate, like he could break if Yeonjun speaks a little too harshly at him. Yeonjun is all rough and sharp edges — he's meant to cut deep if anyone comes a little close to him. At one point, he may hurt Beomgyu unknowingly and somehow, the thought of that leaves him with an unsettling feeling wrapping itself around his bones.

Maybe it's because he couldn't forget the flicker of hurt in Beomgyu's dark gaze underneath the moonlight. Yeonjun isn't supposed to care, not when they've only met hours ago, but something about the dark haired boy tugs at his heartstrings in more ways than one. He hates the little feeling, trying his hardest to suppress his emotions as he scowls once more at the thought of himself growing attached to anyone.

What's the use of being attached if they're all going to leave at one point?

He's not meant to know the weight of unconditional love — if he knows how to love, it'll come with grazed palms and bloodstained knees. He doesn't know how to love without hurting someone else; he long since stopped caring about anybody but himself.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Beomgyu's honey-like voice breaks through his thoughts, forcing Yeonjun to stumble back into reality. He nearly misses a step, hurriedly steadying himself as he tightens his hold on the railing, catching his breath. The rush of blood pounds in his ears as he falls quiet, finally realizing that they've already reached the third floor of the apartment complex.

A frown twists on the edges of his mouth, shaking his head. "It's nothing. I was just thinking." He doesn't say anything, choosing to stay cold as he shrugs him off. Yeonjun unknowingly misses the sight of Beomgyu staring at his back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion though no more words are exchanged between them.

Yeonjun doesn't know what's going on with himself — it's almost as if his emotions are in a whirlwind. A confusing tangled mess that refuses to tear itself apart one by one. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as he makes his way to the same worn down wooden door that he's so used to seeing for the past three years of living here. He unlocks the door with his keys, hearing the familiar click before his fingers wrap around the doorknob. Twisting it, he pushes it open and blindly lets his fingers run across the wall on his right to flick on the lights.

But as he hits it a few times, switching it off and on, the darkness still blankets the living room. Great, his landlord cut off the damn electricity again — fuck him, honestly. One month of not being able to pay properly and he decides to let the lights go out without informing him. A frustrated sigh falls from his lips as he stumbles inside, not noticing the streak of confusion on Beomgyu's expression as he lingers by the entrance.

Yeonjun kicks off his sneakers, knowing exactly where they'll land; he's been living here for years after all. The little shoe rack tucked away at the corner has been there since the very start and he refused to move it, even just by an inch. He only notices the silence that descends upon his head when he realizes that his footsteps are the only sounds that resounds within the apartment.

Making his way back to the entrance, he can see the obvious reluctance in Beomgyu's actions. For once, he feels tempted to toy with the other boy's emotions, mess with his head a little. Maybe this time, he can get him to leave instead of staying with him tonight.

"What?" Yeonjun rests against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There's a shadow of an amused smirk on his features as he arches a brow at the younger male, "You can't be bothered to stay in a place like mine? There's no electricity tonight, don't know when I'll get it back." 

His words are dripping with annoyance as he heaves out a deep sigh. He runs his fingers through his blue strands, his eyes widening slightly when he sees the way Beomgyu pursues his lips into a thin line before he steps inside, inviting himself into the apartment. 

"No," Beomgyu forces a smile, hiking the strap of his bag on his shoulder as he unconsciously tightens his hold on it. "It's fine. At least I can have somewhere to stay. This is better than staying out there sleeping on park benches." 

Yeonjun's lower lip gets caught between his teeth as he holds himself back from rolling his eyes. It's so frustrating that Yeonjun keeps on forgetting how stubborn the other boy is — he should have known that Beomgyu isn't the type to back down. Ever since he reached out and lowered his pride to the ground, only to ask him if he could stay with him, he was already on his way to reaching the point of desperation.

Desperation is the root of Beomgyu's stubbornness, isn't it?

Desperate to leave his parents' house, desperate to run to another city with only a backpack with clothes tucked inside and too much money in his pocket. Desperate to stay with a stranger who could have easily held a knife against his throat and leave him dead on the streets.

He watches him as Beomgyu carefully toes his shoes off close to the shoe rack, bumping against it as he clumsily slides them on top. It's too dark and Yeonjun knows that exactly — the only advantage he has is that he knows the place like the back of his hand. He doesn't care all too much when the lights suddenly flicker off in the middle of the night because god, he forgot to pay his bills again. It didn't matter back then and it's not supposed to matter now.

Yeonjun lets the front door fall shut, locking it up before he stumbles through the dark. He sees Beomgyu ruffle through his backpack, taking out a small flashlight before he hurriedly tries to switch it on. A small flicker of light floods the living area — a simple and small couch fit for two people sits in the middle, as well as a tiny coffee table right in front.

"It's..." Beomgyu lets the light flood the other corners as he walks around, trying to see every turn of the apartment. It doesn't even take a minute before he ends up back where he started, flicking off the flashlight. The window is enough to let the moonlight bleed through the living area, casting shadows upon their features.

"It's what?"

"Small." He answers though his voice is filled with hesitation. Yeonjun can't see well through the dark, not noticing the way Beomgyu shifts from one foot to another, showing off his nervousness.

"What?" Yeonjun barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, were you expecting a mansion? Something like the house that you lived in?" He brushes past him and he can feel the way Beomgyu jerk away in shock, not quite expecting how close their bodies are because of the lack of space between them. 

"If you can't live like this with someone like me, you can leave." 

He's not usually like this — Yeonjun is only pushing him to the edge, wanting to see him break the slightest. To see Beomgyu's little weakness beneath his prideful and stubborn nature. But from the looks of it, the dark haired male can keep his mouth shut if needed.

Beomgyu knows _too_ well. Especially for someone who seemed to be sheltered his entire life.

"No, I'll be fine." Beomgyu says a little too loudly before he lowers his voice into a murmur, almost as if he's trying to reassure himself this time. "I'll be fine."

There's that twinge in his heartstrings again — a harsh tug that causes his throat to close up as he blinks rapidly. He doesn't know why he runs out of breath whenever he has to bear the thought of Beomgyu becoming upset because of him. He's not supposed to care, does he? Yeonjun has spent years not concerning himself about anybody else's wellbeing.

Why should Beomgyu be an exception?

As he parts his lips, he finds himself saying, "Are you tired? You can sleep in the bedroom."

The silence stretches itself thin as Beomgyu nervously stares at one of the doors at the other side. Yeonjun heaves out a sigh as he crosses the distance between them — their bodies are so close that when he reaches out, he can feel the way Beomgyu stiffens when their fingers brush against each other. But soon, he feels the warmth spread through his veins as Beomgyu's fingers clasp around his wrist. A little tug, to let him know that he finds reassurance in having Yeonjun so close. 

It's odd that Beomgyu trusts him like this. 

He's not supposed to be like this — he could easily be manipulated. Beomgyu isn't supposed to trust a stranger like Yeonjun. A man whose crimes have written themselves for so long already that his sins have bled through his palms, a constant reminder of who he is.

A criminal.

But he doesn't say anything, choosing to let Beomgyu hold onto his hand as much as he wants. He steps through the dark, hearing the slight wince from Beomgyu every now and then when they bump into a furniture through the dark. It doesn't take too long before he steps over to the bedroom, pushing it open.

"You can sleep here. I know you're tired."

"I'm not," Beomgyu says though he does brush past Yeonjun, using the moonlight as a way to navigate his way in the tiny bedroom. He settles on the edge of his bed and through the weak lighting, Yeonjun sees the exhaustion already making its way on the younger boy's face.

Of course, he remains stubborn, choosing to sit on the edge. "I'm not tired."

"Whatever," Yeonjun doesn't particularly care, stepping away from his line of sight. He leans against the doorframe, raising a brow. "Do what you want. I'm stepping out for a bit."

As Yeonjun starts to break away, he hears Beomgyu's soft voice resonate within the apartment. "Yeonjun?"

"What?"

A clear stretch of silence, one that pulses with reluctance before his honey-like voice floats through the air once more, "Thank you. For letting me stay over."

Yeonjun doesn't find it in himself to respond, his throat closing up as the crash of emotions overwhelm him. He nods his head though he knows that Beomgyu can't see him well enough. Stepping away, he lets the door fall shut, albeit much quieter than he used to do.

He doesn't know why he feels uneasy as he slips his sneakers back on, making his way out of the apartment. His head is flooded with thoughts about the oddity of the situation — if he was still his old self, he could have hurt Beomgyu and stolen all his money without a care if he'll survive at all. Yeonjun can't figure out why he felt the need to protect him, much less let him stay in his apartment.

What does he see in Beomgyu?

The blue haired boy is so deep in his trace of thoughts that he didn't realize that he's already by the entrance of the apartment building. Raising his head, he glances at the stars painted across the night sky as an ache settles deep within his bones. He doesn't know how long he stands there, his expression streaked with emotions but soon, his feet starts to take him to a place that was strangely familiar to him. 

Maybe there's a reason why he chose to stay in that apartment — why he can't find it in himself to leave. It's so close to the place where he stumbled into when he first started stealing, the first time when he had a gun cocked at his direction.

The parking lot nearby is empty, abandoned already if he's being honest. There are no cars lingering around and the people have long since disappeared; from what Yeonjun can sense, it must be around three in the morning. Nobody goes to this side of Seoul, unless you're a risk taker who had too much to drink.

They might as well just walk their way to the path of their deaths if that happens.

Yeonjun settles right in the center of the empty lot, staring right up at the night sky. He feels alone, like most nights — the only company that he kept close to him are the stars that linger in the sky and the moon that he whispers his secrets to.

The memory of him dropping into this lot when he was seven years old was strangely vivid in his mind; he remembers the way he ran, the way he pumped his legs to go faster so he can no longer hear the sirens of the police cars at his back. He remembers the sound of the coins rocking back and forth in his pocket, the way the bills are hastily tucked inside and on the verge of falling anytime.

He remembers the way his shirt has clung to him, sweat running down the side of his face though the night was cold. There was an ache in his body that never left him even years as he lays down on the same spot that he collapsed into.

Yeonjun remembers every little detail — the most vivid memory is the weight of the money in his pocket. A foreshadowing of what his life will be years later, when he has indulged himself in his sins.

But for the first time in his life, his pockets were empty. 

A deep sigh falls from his lips as he lays down on the pavement, staring up at the star-drunk skies. He can't believe that he let himself go soft, even the slightest, all because of a runaway boy who was almost hurt. He wants to reason with himself, to try and say that this is a goddamn awful idea. 

But he traces back to his thoughts, the edges become chipped off. He knows that getting attached to Beomgyu would lead him to places that he never wants to go back to. He's fine being all alone — he doesn't need anyone else to rely on. 

_It's only for a few days,_ Yeonjun quietly muses to himself as he continues to gaze at the night sky. _Then he'll leave and I'll go back to how things used to be._

Yeonjun lets himself drift through his thoughts as he mindlessly traces the stars in the sky. He doesn't know how long he's been there but soon, the darkness that used to blanket over his body has slowly lightened up. Streaks of orange and yellow have painted themselves above his head, forcing him to arise from his spot. 

He staggers his way back to the apartment building, lost in his head once more. There's too many thoughts there and he's afraid to untangle them slowly, exposing more of his vulnerability to himself. He suppresses his need to think about anything else but the emptiness in his pockets.

Honestly, it's no surprise to him that once he stepped inside his apartment, it's peacefully quietly. He toes off his sneakers and heads over to the bedroom, already feeling the exhaustion wrap itself around his bones. It almost slips out of his mind that there's someone else who'll sleep next to him.

Yeonjun wraps his fingers around the knob, twisting it and pushing it open. His eyes fall upon Beomgyu's figure curled up in the sheets, deep in his sleep as his dark hair is ruffled and messy. He's never going to admit it out loud but the sight of Beomgyu like that seems endearing.

He crosses the distance between them, shutting the door silently and settling right at the edge. He wants to fall asleep now — the sun has already risen over the horizon after all. But instead, the blue haired male finds himself gazing at Beomgyu, watching him get comfortable in his bed as he drifts through his dreams.

It's only a moment before Yeonjun lets himself indulge in the warmth of his bed, not used to the feeling of sleeping right beside someone else. He's caught by how ethereal Beomgyu looks when he's peaceful, when there's no worry or anxiety etched upon his features. It's strange but Yeonjun can't help but want to remember this for a moment — him gazing at the dark haired boy and feeling the harsh tug in his heartstrings.

An ache that's starting to become familiar within him.

"Idiot," He murmurs though there's no malice in his tone. A deep sigh falls from his lips as he lets his fingers reluctantly brush against his dark hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. He can feel the way Beomgyu stirs just a little out of deep sleep before he inches forward to lay himself against Yeonjun's body.

Yeonjun doesn't even realize that the corners of his lips have lifted into a small smile at the gesture, pulling his hand away. He doesn't hold him close, even though it's what his body wants to do — a craving for more of his touch, his warmth spreading through.

He does let himself take in the moment of seeing him one last time. A torn feeling of lingering in the past and stepping into the future where everything could change. 

It's one of the many first memories that he'll make with him. 

One that he'll never forget, no matter what happens. 


	3. my insecurities, not yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (tw : mentions of violence, injuries, and blood.)
> 
> Beomgyu didn't think it was possible to find solace in a sinner like Yeonjun but the more time that passes by, the more he wants to stay.

Yeonjun isn't used to this.

For years, he spent his time in isolation — it's easier that way. With no way for anyone to trace him through associations, he can keep himself buried six feet underneath. Sometimes, rumors will be whispered through alleys, words of criminals finally getting caught and risking their accomplices for a brutal promise of shortening their sentences.

 _Idiots_. Yeonjun always thinks to himself when he hears how another thief was forced to his knees, handcuffs digging against their wrists. Whenever he hears those rumors, he's smart enough to avoid that area, knowing that the officers will roam around there for a few weeks. It's a nuisance but it's a risk that he's not willing to take for himself. He knows that it won't take long before those thieves will end up spilling connections past their lips, worlds upon worlds of tangled criminals spoken out loud in a confessional tape.

It's human nature to be like that; selfishness has constantly reigned over their morals since the start. They'd risk anything, only to get themselves out of the mess that they've created. 

Maybe that's why Yeonjun doesn't bother getting attached, knowing that his heartstrings will get severed if he lets himself go. He doesn't want to end up like that — bruised and broken, locked up and knowing how his crimes have weighed themselves down on his shoulders, he might as well be dead now. He doesn't trust anyone else that they won't speak his name without any sort of malice around every syllable.

Yeonjun doesn't trust them that they'll risk their lives for him because as much as he hates to admit it, it's a natural instinct for anyone to put themselves first. He doesn't trust himself either. Not when he did the exact same thing years ago.

Soobin was like him; they've suffered the same injustices that this broken system had given to them. His father was framed for a politician's dirty work, had a gun right against his chest and was killed in cold blood. They said that justice was served, that there are no more criminals drifting through the streets anymore. No one would ever feel the same amount of anguish and grief that Soobin felt that night — knowing that the real criminal is sitting in their government, drowning himself in his money. It drove Soobin into his anger issues, completely losing his breath as his entire body shook when the news finally reached him.

They were each other's comfort place, a strange sense of solace in each other's company. They're messed up, fucked up by the system and maybe that's what drove them to stick up with each other.

Soobin was the closest one he'll ever get to call as his friend — he'll even say that he feels like family. Even until now, when Yeonjun leaves to head over to the parking lot, Soobin lingers at the back of his mind. A little reminder of what he was and everything that he used to be.

Yeonjun's memories are always so vivid — bright and tangled scenes that cause him to lose focus sometimes. They come in bright flashes behind his eyelids, his breath taken away when he remembers all the worst memories tucked away inside his head. They're always waiting to resurface at the wrong moments, as if they're reminding him of his own cruelty.

He'll remember them when he has his fingers wrapped the handle of his knife, the blade pressed against someone's throat. For a moment, he'll see him in his head — no one can ever describe the way the shivers ran down Yeonjun's spine when he saw the turmoil of emotions in Soobin's eyes that night. For a second, he'll feel the guilt tug on the corners of his chest, his heart squeezing the slightest. 

For a split second, Yeonjun realizes that he's still capable of being afraid. 

Maybe those are the only times that he'll ever feel the regret and anger course through his veins.

He couldn't forget it; the sound of his footsteps against the pavement, the rush of adrenaline through his entire body. His head feels light as his thoughts, his need to escape grows stronger through him.

He won't stop remembering the memory before that — the strong smell of blood thick in the air, the sight of it staining Soobin's hands as he drops the knife onto the ground. A wrong move, if Yeonjun has anything to say about it. He left his prints on the weapon and everything will trace themselves back to him.

The fear in Soobin's eyes is what Yeonjun remembers the most. Sometimes when he lets himself close his eyes and drift through his countless thoughts, it's the memory that lingers the most. The scene plays out like a scratched up film; the yelling echoing in the background, the flash of lights through alleyways and streets, and the sound of feet stomping against the ground in the direction. But Yeonjun had never paid attention to any of that.

He can only remember the tremble in Soobin's hands, the obvious regret over what he did. _I didn't mean to_ , Soobin whispered, words leaving past his lips like a plea that to the gods above to spare him. _I didn't mean to hurt him._

"It's fine, we'll be fine."

"No, no." Soobin murmured, as if lost in his thoughts. His hands won't stop shaking and he looked so awfully afraid — that was the first time that Yeonjun has ever seen him so small and so unsure. He usually stands tall and though his past will always haunt him, he never allowed it to knock him down, not even once.

Until that very moment.

"Bin, come on, let's go—"

"No!" He raised his voice at Yeonjun and there's a streak of fear and panic in his expression. He was so deep in his overwhelming crash of emotions that he wasn't thinking straight; he can't even comprehend the fact that the sirens were growing louder and though the darkness was heavy that night, the flashing red and blue lights were enough to illuminate the ground, showing the dark blood seeping on the ground.

It frightened Yeonjun to see so much blood everywhere.

"We killed a man." Soobin took a deep breath and a sob got stuck in his throat as he forced himself to not to collapse at that moment. "We killed... the same man who murdered my dad."

"Hyung," There was a haunted look in his dark eyes that Yeonjun couldn't forget — a longing sense of regret and anguish colored in his irises. The words that left his lips were the ones that clung to the edges of Yeonjun's head, never letting him be at peace with the ghosts of his past.

"Are we bad people?" Soobin whispered, his gaze slowly becoming distant as he stared at Yeonjun. He glanced down at his stained hands, voice lowering in a softer tone that Yeonjun almost missed the words that escaped by. "Am I a bad person for killing him?"

Yeonjun didn't know what to respond to him and even to this day, he still doesn't have the answer. He wanted to reach out, tell him that _no, we're not bad people, Bin_ but he couldn't find it in himself to lie. 

Is it a lie to say that they did the right thing here? 

The blue haired boy never knew the right answer for that — the morals have been fucked up that he doesn't even trust the law to tell him what was the difference between right and wrong. Yeonjun somehow knew that it was always like this; the rich and the privileged will reign over the oppressed for as long as time will stand still. He'll never taste justice and as much as he hates to admit it, he feels a little relieved. Yeonjun is a criminal for as long as he can remember; he's destined to end up somewhere horrible at one point. 

Whether it's the cold jail cell that's been calling his name or hell itself, he doesn't care anymore. 

"We need to go."

"No," Soobin was so stubborn, standing there as the sirens grew louder than before, "You need to go."

Yeonjun gritted his teeth, the annoyance dripping from the edge of his tone. There's impatience in the way he moved that day, harshly grabbing Soobin's arm as if to shake him out of his thoughts. "Snap out of it!"

"Don't!"

The older boy forgot that Soobin was carrying such a sharp knife. When he jerked away from Yeonjun, the other boy felt the tip drag against his cheek, leaving behind a gash. Yeonjun was too deep in his emotions that he almost didn't feel that Soobin had already hurt him — it only occurred to him that the wound stung when he let his fingers drag against the injury. Blood stained his palms but somehow, he didn't care enough; he didn't care enough that the one person that he cared the most in the world had hurt him, even when they promised that they wouldn't do that.

Soobin stared at him in horror, hurriedly pushing away as he raised his voice, "Hyung, just leave."

"Soobin, I—"

"I said, leave! What part of that did you not understand?!"

The weight of his words stung more than the fact that he left a scar across his cheek. He clenched his fists, scowling so hard as he turned on his heel, running away as fast as he could. He was reminded of the way he ran away the first time, his seven years old self running out of breath and god, it was happening all over again. 

He didn't glance over his shoulder the moment he ran away, never noticing the remorse on the younger male's expression when the police cars finally swerved into the road. The loud pounding of the doors and guns being aimed were the only sounds that he heard, forcing him to pump his legs even more. He couldn't breathe — it felt like the air had left his lungs completely and his head won't stop spinning. 

Yeonjun doesn't remember much after that. Or maybe he had suppressed so much that he can no longer remember any of them.

All he knew about him after that was that Soobin received a harsh punishment, despite his lawyer argued about the attack as a move for self-defense. But it didn't take long before his story rose through the news, the politician exposed for a lifetime's worth of crimes — Soobin's father was one of the many, many victims that were used to cover up his merciless and relentless offenses.

But despite all that, the blue haired boy stopped looking for him, stopped searching for his name whispered among the streets. Sometimes, he'll feel like he has stolen a glance of him through the alleyways or when he sees the flicker of news on the passing televisions. But he dismisses them, tucking away his memories at the back of his head, telling him that it's not worth it. 

He left Soobin when the younger boy needed him the most. 

Yeonjun could never forgive himself for that. 

Maybe that's why he feels a harsh tug at his heartstrings whenever he looks at Beomgyu. He doesn't understand why he constantly feels his heart pounds against his chest when he sees the way Beomgyu stares at him with starry eyes, as if he's drawn to the older boy. Why does he look at him like that?

Why does Beomgyu look at him like he's not the sinner that he thinks himself to be?

Yeonjun can't help it — he can't let Beomgyu get attached to him. He's only nineteen years old; he's got his whole life ahead of him. He doesn't deserve to spend his days with someone who makes a living out of stealing coins in people's pockets, expensive jewelries and watches that lay upon their wrists.

Beomgyu, as much as Yeonjun hates to admit it to himself, doesn't deserve any of that.

The sooner that Beomgyu leaves him, the easier it'll be for them to spare each other the heartbreak. Or at least, that's what Yeonjun genuinely hopes for. 

* * *

Beomgyu stumbles into the living room, the sunlight streaking through the flowing curtains. They're ragged, worn out but Beomgyu thinks it must be a little comfort for Yeonjun — to see something that's a constant in this apartment. He glances around, his throat closing up as he realizes that he's alone; though he's been here for a little more than two weeks, this still feels foreign. 

He yet has to get used to the way the lights flicker right above his head in the middle of the night. Or perhaps, the way everything feels so much smaller, like the walls are closing in, rendering him a little breathless at times. He sometimes has to sit, steady the way the air slips past his lips as his hearts slowly falls into a calming echo of what used to be a rampage in his ribs. 

Ever since their paths have crossed, he knew that he'd crash his way through the routines that Yeonjun had planned out for so many months and years. The days where he was used to leaving the apartment without saying goodbye to anyone else had been broken ever since Beomgyu stepped right into his place. 

"Where are you going?" Beomgyu piped up one day, when he was sitting on the couch, clothes strewn across the furniture. Yeonjun was rushing to slip into his shoes and he almost knocked over the rack at the sound of the younger boy's voice. With a flinch, he turned his head, blinking rapidly as if he wasn't used to seeing another boy in this apartment.

"Work."

It was short, his voice monotonous as ever but Beomgyu found himself curving the corners of his mouth into a frown. He knew what Yeonjun meant at that — he knew that he was risking himself to slip his fingers through pockets to steal as much as he can. Beomgyu tried to stop him, tell him that he still had money stuck in his worn out backpack but Yeonjun seemed to love the adrenaline of getting caught more than the money itself. 

He didn't say anything, fingers only stilling in fixing his clothes before he drew out a ragged breath with a nod of his head.

"Stay safe then."

Beomgyu could see from the corner of his eye the way Yeonjun stilled, as if he was hesitating to go. For a fraction of a second, Yeonjun's gaze lingered on him before he pursued his lips. 

He knew that look — Yeonjun might have been used to the flicker of frown on Beomgyu's lips whenever he hears that Yeonjun is going out to slip through alleyways or crowded streets. Their relationship has always been odd; a nineteen year old runaway boy with dreams that he'll taste the freedom that he's been craving for years and a twenty one year old boy whose hands are stained with sins on his palms. Too many sins to erase any remnants left on his skin. 

They both wanted to put aside their differences but in those fleeting moments, they seep through the cracks in their relationship, reminding them that they live in different parts of the world.

Beomgyu was used to whispering the words, "Do you really have to do that? Steal from other people?" But at that time, he didn't find it in himself to say anything. Yeonjun always ignored him anyway, never letting the sting of his words lay itself upon his bones as he brushed past him.

So to hear him murmur, _stay safe then_ , beneath his breath, Yeonjun had to take a moment before he nodded his head. After that, it was back to normal — with Yeonjun out in the streets with fingers drifting through pockets and wrists with a skilled thief's touch, walking away with coins in his pockets and bracelets and watches that are more worth it than anything he had to earn in his life.

Beomgyu always waits for him to come home; the hours go by so slowly as he drifts through the apartment, cleaning up the little corners and quietly shifting some of the things to make more space. He makes sure to keep his hands to himself as much as he can, not wanting to piss him off the older male because somehow, Yeonjun could still be someone unpredictable. As much as he hated to admit it, he needs him right now because he doesn't know anyone else.

Even then, he can't deny that his head is still in the clouds. Sometimes, he loses himself in his daydreams of exploring the world with nothing holding him back. It's terrifying yet thrilling to have so much freedom at the tips of his fingers — where would he wind up in?

Still, even if he can't find it in himself to say it out loud, it's comforting that somehow, Yeonjun is his safe place. It's a little fucked up, he knows that; but when he sees him slip right into the apartment with his head lowered and his eyes more tired than ever, Beomgyu can feel an ache that resides in his chest. Yeonjun had always looked like he was torn between so many things, a constant pull of back and forth of what he used to know and what he has yet to discover.

Though Beomgyu is riddled with worries, there's a sense of familiarity and comfort when he sees Yeonjun right before he falls asleep on the bed. Yeonjun always lingers for a moment, sitting right beside him and falling quiet. One night, Beomgyu took the risk to reach out to hold onto the sleeve of his shirt.

"What?"

Yeonjun asked, his voice rough though there was a twinge of softness in his expression when he saw the flicker of hesitation on the other boy. His eyes were fixated on Beomgyu, patiently waiting for him to say anything. 

The younger boy took in a deep breath before a smile curved upon his lips, shaking his head slightly. "Nothing," He paused before he laid his head back down on the pillow. "Just wondering if you're going to bed early today."

"You know that I always stay out," Yeonjun paused, glancing down at him before he quietly took the seat right beside him. There was a little distance set between them but Beomgyu didn't dare to push it, though his body was craving for the warmth from the older boy. But the other male's words were enough to make the warmth bloom through his body.

"I can stay for a bit tonight, if you want." 

"And since when did you start caring about what I like?" 

Beomgyu's voice was dripping with playfulness and Yeonjun was easy to catch onto it. A flicker of a smile appeared on his lips, shaking his head slightly.

"Don't get cocky now. You just get more annoying when you're whiny."

A soft hum resonated in the atmosphere but Yeonjun didn't comment on it, carefully watching as Beomgyu rose from the bed to sit upright. He shifted just the slightest so their bodies are pressed against each other, close enough to lay his head on his shoulder. They both knew that they shouldn't get too close, for the risk of their heartbeats falling in sync but here they were — fingers brushing the slightest and their breathing falling into a steady pattern.

"Yeonjun?"

Beomgyu murmured, his fingers lightly dragging against the older boy's knuckles. Yeonjun only gazed down, not bothering to say anything, other than a soft hum beneath his breath.

"Can I ask you anything?"

"What?" Yeonjun arched a brow at him, clearly muddled at his question. Beomgyu reluctantly allowed their eyes to meet, a quick drag of emotions that stole the younger male's breath away.

"Can you tell me about yourself?" Beomgyu spoke softly and as soon as the words slipped by, he saw the way Yeonjun's expression hardened so quickly that it frightened him to see how dark his eyes were. Every trace of gentleness on his visage had disappeared, replaced with a hollow, cold look in his gaze.

"I don't think you can handle hearing about my story." 

"I can handle anything."

Yeonjun paused for a long moment, as if he was thinking about it over and over. "I think you won't like me anymore once you hear about what I did." Though the darkness had blanketed over their bodies, Beomgyu could clearly see the obvious brokenness in his dark, fox-like eyes, as if he had been suppressing his emotions for so long. Beomgyu let their fingers intertwined and Yeonjun's hand felt so achingly warm in his hold.

Beomgyu didn't respond though he did squeeze his hand a little tighter, a small reassurance that Yeonjun didn't know that he needed.

And Yeonjun did tell him — he told him the story that's been writing itself along the creases of his soul. He told him about the fear that coursed through his veins when he found out that his mom was killed — a gunshot straight through the chest as what the rumors have said. He whispered about the worry and the emptiness colliding within him when he had that same gun aimed right at him, a quiet acceptance of what could have been his death when he was seven years old. 

"That's why I never bothered to hold a gun," Yeonjun seemed to be in a daze, as if he was reminiscing about his past. "Though someone did teach me. I just thought... it was cowardly to kill someone like that." _Like how they killed my mom,_ the words were left unsaid but they rang loud and clear in the atmosphere, sending a chill down Beomgyu's spine. 

He thought that Yeonjun would stop there but his expression slowly turned sullen, like the weight of the memories rested upon his shoulders. Beomgyu quietly waited for him to speak, not wanting to push him too much. 

Yeonjun took a deep breath, eyes fixating themselves on the blank wall in front of them. 

And he told him about Soobin; a bigger ache that he carried in his chest because of the guilt the surged through his chest as he ran away from him that night. Beomgyu could tell that it was the first time that Yeonjun had opened up about what happened to him because even though he was struggling to keep his expression straight, he can feel the way Yeonjun slowly broke down more and more as the story unraveled. He could see the guilt and obvious resentment at himself, the way he never forgave himself for a mistake that he committed years ago. 

Beomgyu didn't know who Soobin was but he must have been someone special to him. Yeonjun didn't seem to be the person who would allow himself to get attached, especially when he was used to being alone in this lifetime. To see him vulnerable like this, curling up into himself and becoming smaller than Beomgyu had ever seen him, it _hurts_. 

"I could have saved him," He breathed out, his voice shaking and the words felt heavy in his throat. Yeonjun had curled up into himself and he seemed to have forgotten that Beomgyu was there — it was as if the memories that he had to suppress for so long have come spilling out. 

"Or I could have gotten arrested with him. I could have taken the blame instead because he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be taken away, when all he wanted was to avenge his father's death." 

Beomgyu let him cry for a moment, his sobs resonating within the bedroom. He sat right beside him, letting the other dive in deep through his tangled emotions and finally let them surge through his veins. He doesn't know for how long he sat there but soon, he wrapped his arms around Yeonjun's taller frame, pulling him in a tight embrace. The younger male could feel him bury his face against the crook of his neck, a shuddering breath falling from his lips as they curl up against each other.

Yeonjun's hands felt cold that night as they placed themselves around the curve of the other's waist. But everything about him felt warm, like he's a familiar presence that Beomgyu doesn't mind having so close to him. He lets Yeonjun rest against his body and he doesn't say anything else — Yeonjun sounds so exhausted after everything that happened. He can't even imagine how lonely it must have been for him for so long, that he didn't have anybody else with him like this. 

It was the first time that Yeonjun fell asleep earlier than him, right in his arms. He's taller but with the way he was curled up in Beomgyu's embrace, he felt like he was smaller than he actually is. Beomgyu didn't mind at all — he wanted to be someone that Yeonjun could lean on. 

They were treading onto a dangerous territory, a place that they could not turn back to. But Beomgyu didn't care enough at that moment; all he wanted was to keep Yeonjun safe with him, even if it meant that they'll be broken into pieces one day.

At least for one night, Yeonjun trusted him.

That was enough for him.

* * *

Weeks have been stretched so thin that Yeonjun and Beomgyu could have fooled themselves into thinking that they were going to be okay. They were warming up to each other, becoming a little more vulnerable around their presence. A sense of familiarity and home that they've been searching for so long. 

But they always forget that they were from different parts of a world that were never meant to collide.

Beomgyu spent so many weeks watching the way Yeonjun continued to drift in and out of the apartment, pockets always brimming with money and jewelries around his wrists. At times, he stays out later than usual and Beomgyu always ends up at the couch, wide awake with eyes on the clock. 

Yeonjun doesn't comment on it whenever he comes home, quietly telling him _let's go to bed_ and Beomgyu only listens to him without another word. But of course, something deep that's been so rooted in his sense of morality left him breaking apart the little routine they've set up for themselves. 

The breeze outside of the window that day is refreshing, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the afternoon sun against his skin. But even with the bright day hanging above their heads, Beomgyu's insides feel like they are tangled because of the anxiety deep within him. Yeonjun came home a little earlier than he used to do but the weight of the coins in the pockets of his jeans remained heavy. 

Beomgyu is uncomfortable at it — he feels like Yeonjun didn't have to do this. They're fine, there's still money that's left over. It feels like a sin on the tip of his tongue if he didn't call out Yeonjun for what he was doing; what if he ends up in trouble? What would happen to the two of them then?

He shifts from one foot to another, standing near the window. Yeonjun has his feet up on the small table in front of him, lazing around as he leans against the couch. He looks peaceful like this and if Beomgyu isn't riddled with worries, he would have taken a little longer to admire the way the sunlight hits the curve of Yeonjun's jawline and the way his blue hair looks a little brighter. 

It's almost ironic that a sinner like him looks like he has a halo sitting upon his head. 

"Yeonjun?" 

No response. 

"Hey, Yeonjun?" Beomgyu voices out his name a little louder but the mentioned boy doesn't even show a flicker of acknowledgement. A scowl tugs on the edges of his mouth as he hurries over to his direction. Yeonjun doesn't seem bothered over the noise of the footsteps, forcing Beomgyu to let out a deep sigh. 

"Hyung." 

"What?" Yeonjun finally lifts his head, eyes narrowing the slightest before he recognizes Beomgyu. He seems to be tense so Yeonjun doesn't say anything, only gesturing for him to take the seat right beside him. The younger boy hesitates, teeth sinking onto his lower lip before he nods his head as he takes the seat beside him. 

"Okay, what's wrong?" 

"I need to tell you something."

Yeonjun scoffs, running a hand through his blue strands as he relaxes against the couch. "As long as it's not about you being so judgmental about my work then it's fine."

But the silence only answers him, pulling on Yeonjun's nerves. There's a deep frown on his lips as he sits upright, every sense of comforting presence is tucked away as he stares at Beomgyu. "Is this what this is about?"

Beomgyu's lip feels like it's going to bleed from how hard his teeth are sinking down onto the flesh. He swallow the lump in his throat as he gazes at his hands instead to avoid the older boy's piercing and intimidating gaze, "Yes."

"You're kidding me," A little more distance appears between them as Yeonjun shifts away, almost annoyed as he narrowed his eyes at Beomgyu. He lifts his chin, as if challenging the younger boy to speak against him. "How many times are you going to bring this up?"

"Until you finally stop!" Beomgyu raises his voice at him unknowingly, reaching his end point. He's starting to see red at the very corners of his line of sight but he didn't care — he needed to let this out. Before Yeonjun can convince him to shut up once again. "I know you went through a shitty childhood and I'm so fucking sorry because no one deserves that. But you shouldn't be doing this, Yeonjun. It's illegal and you could get into trouble—"

"Oh, I'm sorry?" Yeonjun cuts right in, a forced laugh falling from his lips as he pulls away even further, "Did you forget who you're living with right now?" 

To Beomgyu's surprise, Yeonjun suddenly inches forward, completely tugging away the personal boundaries set between them. It steals his breath, making his head spin as he blinks rapidly, wanting to pull away. Yeonjun is a little frightening, like he's tearing away at the edges of the warm, comforting Yeonjun that he got to know over the weeks. 

"Since the very start, you knew who I am. You knew that I'm a criminal, that I could easily hurt you if I was given the chance." Beomgyu used to think that the Yeonjun that he met weeks and months ago was nothing close to the Yeonjun he knows right now. But as he stares right into his eyes, he can feel the way his fingers twitch and the blood rush pounding in his ears. 

"But it takes another criminal to know one, huh?"

"What?"

Beomgyu murmurs, his heart beating incredibly fast beneath his chest. The rapid echo of his heartbeats against his ribcage drowns out everything else, the red slowly fading away from the corners of his eyes though the fear continues to course through his body. Yeonjun turns his head away, scoffing once again as his gaze turns dark.

"Don't try to play a hero here, Beomgyu." Yeonjun's words are dripping with poison and Beomgyu can feel every little syllable bury itself in the spaces of his ribcage. He tries his hardest not to burst into tears as Yeonjun continues talking, as if he didn't care anymore of what's happening to the younger boy. 

"You're such a hypocrite, aren't you? Stole money from your parents and ran all the way to Seoul," Another laugh falls from his lips and it sounds like a mockery of his words before his expression twists into a sense of seriousness. "A nineteen year old kid that lives off from his parents' money. Pathetic." 

Beomgyu doesn't even have the chance to speak because Yeonjun keeps stealing every second away from him, as if he's been holding himself back for so long. And now his mouth is running, words spilling out without any more hesitation and _god_ , does it hurt so bad. 

"Get the hell out of your head, Choi Beomgyu. You're a nuisance — just a privileged, rich kid who thinks that he can make it big in Seoul." The blue haired boy rises from the couch, dragging the distance between them even more though his expression remains dark as ever. "Not everyone had the same chance to grow up with the perfect morals as you did. Not everyone had everything and had the choice to lose it all for a dream. Some of us were _forced_ to give up on our own dreams for people like you to rise up." 

"None of us had that chance. _Ever_."

Yeonjun loses every sense of care as he steps away, not bothering to see the way Beomgyu's expression had crumpled up. He looks like he's near to tears but it takes everything in Yeonjun not to stay — Beomgyu needed to hear that, right? He's always been too into his head, acting as if he's better than Yeonjun.

The older boy clenches his hand into a fist, a deep and shaky sigh falling from his lips. "I'm heading out." It's all that he says before he breaks away to slip into his shoes, hurrying out of the apartment. He slams the door a little too hard but he didn't care — he feels like he shouldn't care about anything, for god's sake.

He never asked for Beomgyu to come into his life; he never asked for him to rip the vulnerability that he had hidden deep within him for so long. He never asked for anything like this — is this what his punishment is? For everything that he has ever done in his life?

Yeonjun wants to say that he doesn't care but when he spares a look over his shoulder and sees the worn out front door, something tugs so harshly at his heartstrings. Harsh enough for everything in him to hurt this bad and for the tears to prick at the corners of his eyes.

As he hurries down the stairs, only one thought runs through his head.

Why did it hurt so much that Beomgyu thinks of him as a sinner this time?

* * *

The sun feels warm on his skin and the skies are bluer than ever but Yeonjun can't find it in himself to admire the sight. He almost feels sorry for himself that he's always in such a rush to get rid of his thoughts that he ends up forgetting even the littlest things. 

Even he did not have the luxury to stop what he was doing. 

He tries his hardest to push Beomgyu out of his head, to forget the way he knew he hurt the younger boy. Yeonjun, as much as he wants to deny it, can feel the way his heart aches at the thought of Beomgyu back home and breaking down into tears. He almost wants to stop and turn back, rush back home to apologize so he can hold him close.

Yeonjun scowls at the thought almost immediately, shaking his head. Since when did he care about someone else like this? Beomgyu was supposed to be nothing — just a runaway boy that needed a place to stay. Yeonjun wasn't supposed to be entangled with him but here they were, with Beomgyu so far away with him and Yeonjun missing him more than ever.

He hates himself so much for even trying to be vulnerable with someone like Beomgyu.

A soft sigh falls from his lips as he stares straight ahead. Yeonjun keeps on walking, mindlessly slipping his fingers through pockets and wrists like a practiced skill of a thief. The crowd is pressing against him but he moves quickly, not drawing enough attention to himself as he passes by other people. It's frightening for him that he forgot how easy this is for him — that it's been a part of his life for such a long time that when Beomgyu brought it up, he got blinded by his anger.

He doesn't even know where he's going, all he wanted is to clear his head. Though his pockets are getting heavier, he's consumed by his overwhelming desire to bury his thoughts to stop himself. He never knew when to stop — that he always stumbles right into trouble.

Yeonjun didn't even realize that he already winded up at a different, unfamiliar part of Seoul. A shiver runs down his spine as he glances around, not realizing that the time has been running off for so long already. The sky is already starting to darken though the light is still reflecting upon the mirrored walls. A hue of pink and orange blend in the skies, reminding Yeonjun of how late it must be already. 

_One more_ , he murmurs to himself though there's a twist in his stomach like the anxiety is gripping at his throat right now. _Just one more and I'll head home. I'll apologize._

He sees a tall man busy on his phone, resting against the brick wall. It's easy to steal like this, when the victim is too distracted to notice what was going around him. It didn't matter to Yeonjun if his pockets are weighed heavily with coins and bills that are hurriedly stuffed away. He needed the thrill to feel alive, to remind him of the blood pumping through his veins.

Yeonjun moves quietly and swiftly, settling close to the other man. He barely notices the blue haired male beside him, too busy with texting on his phone. For once in his life, the nervousness tugs at his lungs, stealing the breath away from them as he concentrates on dragging his fingers just barely against fabric near his pocket.

Maybe he's a little clumsy this time or perhaps, the man knew exactly what he's doing — but Yeonjun didn't think anything of that. Not when he's faced with a dark gaze and a sneer written across the taller male's lips. 

"What are you doing?" He stands tall as compared to Yeonjun and for the first time in a long while, the blue haired criminal was deadly frightened by the turmoil of emotions inside of him. He's calculating his next movements, which ones would hurt him and which ones would make him easily dodge any attack but his thoughts are blocked out when he feels a hand around his throat.

He's breathless, clawing uselessly at how tight the grip around his throat. Eyes wide, staring at the other man that he doesn't know the name of. How is he so strong? How is Yeonjun suddenly incapable of defending himself, when he could easily beat him up without any hesitation? 

"Let go of me," Yeonjun voices out though his throat feels rough, like the words are digging painfully within him. With the hand still pressing against his throat, he's going to run out of oxygen soon.

A menacing laugh falls from the taller male and Yeonjun is so afraid for his life now. He's running out of ways to calculate what's going to happen next when he feels a harsh blow delivered at his stomach. Yeonjun didn't know if he's grateful at the way he's dropped to the ground. The impact of his back hitting the gravel left him out of breath as the pain courses through his body. 

There's nobody around and for once, Yeonjun feels cornered. He wonders if this is how everyone else felt when he used to stand before them, a knife in his hands to spark intimidation. Though he barely used it to actually hurt someone, the weight of a weapon that he could easily use whenever he wanted was a strange sense of comfort for him. 

But now as he lies there, feeling more and more breathless than ever, he never felt so powerless before. He lifts his gaze when he feels a harsh tug on his chin, forcing him to look upwards. "You must be new here, huh? You're a fucking idiot if you think you can get out of here alive."

Fear is starting to be a part of him now, especially when he feels the way the other man's knuckles collide against his cheek. A groan falls from his lips when a kick is delivered at his stomach, leaving him shivering from the painful impact. He wanted to defeat himself but even as he raises his arms to block it out, another punch is rammed against his chest.

Everything hurts and god, Yeonjun can start to see the black spots dotting his vision. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth and he knows the relentless punches and kicks om his body is leaving more and more bruises behind. His body is aching and he can't say anything anymore, head lowered as he curls up against himself.

"Pathetic." It's all that he hears and Yeonjun's pride drops to the ground even more at the thought that he can't even lift his head to glare at the other man. His body is shivering hard and when he coughs, his ribs hurt even more. Breathing is proving itself to be a difficult task, his eyes falling shut as he tries to fix his thoughts into a coherent trail.

Another blow against his side leaves him with a wince, his head hitting against the pavement. He barely hears the footsteps finally receding because he's too focused on trying to steady his breathing. He doesn't know how long it took for him to calm down and for his breathing to slowly fall back into a steady pattern but the night has long since fallen upon his head since then.

Even pulling himself up to sit against the wall forces him to use more effort than necessary. He stares ahead, not quite realizing that his pockets feel a little lighter until his fingers brush against them. A soft sigh falls from his lips, not quite feeling sorry for himself enough.

The man was right — he is pathetic for being like this. For pushing himself and taking such a risky approach in a part of Seoul that he doesn't know yet. Now, he's injured, curled up against himself with no one else to take care of him. Not that he's a stranger to injuries but it's been such a long time already; he has always been so careful, until now.

Though he's drowning in his pain, he can't help but worry about the one boy he left behind in the apartment. It's utterly stupid, he knows that, but as he sits there with his head spinning and his body aching more than ever, he never felt more afraid of losing his grip on his life. He used to not care enough if he gets hurt in the middle of his recklessness because there's no one around who would worry about him. But at the thought of Beomgyu wondering or thinking of leaving him behind without another thought pushes him to stand wobbily to his feet.

It hurts — everything hurts right now. Yeonjun can't breathe properly but he can't worry about anything else, other than the thought of getting back to the side of Seoul that he had grown familiar with. As he wraps an arm around his stomach, wincing, he starts to make his way back. 

He's not religious, he never was but still, he prayed to every god that he knew of and every star that hung over his head. He prayed that he'll get back to Seoul, find his way back to his home. He prayed that Beomgyu still hasn't left him behind, even though there's a lingering possibility of that happening.

The walk home is torturous with every muscle aching and his bones weighing heavier than ever. He's riddled with his anxiety twisting within his stomach, trying not to think about how Beomgyu must be worried sick right now. He clutches his stomach even more, a wince falling every now and then from his mouth as he pauses. He stands against the wall, fingers mindlessly trying to grip it to keep his balance though he wants to stumble and fall to the ground instead.

Yeonjun has been walking for so long that he fails to see the lights getting brighter as the streets become more familiar to him. He knows he's almost home so he forces himself to stumble forward, almost losing his balance. He grips the brick wall beside him, noticing the familiar alleyway that sends a chill down his spine. It's not the place that sends chills down his spine but the sight of someone standing so close to him.

Beomgyu spins on his heel, looking around so worriedly. His dark hair is messed up as he runs a hand through the strands, his eyes flickering from the streets before his gaze eventually falls on Yeonjun. He can see the way the surprise streaks itself across the younger boy's expression, taking in the sight of his injured state before he rushes forward.

A rush of relief surges through Yeonjun when he feels the warmth of Beomgyu's arms around his body, a quiet whimper falling from his lips as he buries his face against the crook of his neck. Beomgyu holds him close, a soothing hand down his back and _god_ , Yeonjun never realized how much he needed to have someone so close like this until he came. Though he's taller, he still finds himself curling against his body, leaning against him comfortably as Beomgyu runs his fingers through his blue strands.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"What always happens," Yeonjun winces at the pain in his chest, moving closer as he further buries his face against the crook of his neck. A comforting presence to have close after such a long day of tangled anxieties and horrible thoughts. "You steal and you get hurt at one point." 

A bitter laugh falls from his lips, shaking his head. "I bet you'll say that this is what I deserve, isn't it?" 

All he receives is a shake of Beomgyu's head and a low scoff, "You're such an idiot." Yeonjun lets another soft laugh fall from his lips, warmth blooming in his chest. He feels so relieved that Beomgyu is still here, that he still hasn't left him. 

"Come on," Beomgyu's voice is soothing and calming as he gently pulls on Yeonjun, letting him lean against his body but just enough for them to keep walking in the direction of the apartment. He keeps an arm around his torso as Yeonjun rests his side against his frame, his eyes tired yet filled with light from the happiness that burst right through him.

"Let's go home." 

Yeonjun only curves his lips into a small smile, nodding his head as they walk their way back to their shared apartment. He doesn't want to say it out loud but right now, Beomgyu is his home. 

He feels so much like home.

* * *

The walk is difficult, with Yeonjun's weight leaning mostly against Beomgyu but they find a way to make it work. Yeonjun feels so sorry for him but he can barely lift his body without a groan of pain falling from his lips. Beomgyu doesn't complain though, choosing to keep Yeonjun close as he guides him down the street, right into the apartment building.

They're exhausted as they push the door open to the apartment. Yeonjun weakly reaches out to turn on the light, a little nervous that the darkness would blanket over them again. A flicker of light coming from the bulb before it weakly lights up the living room though it falls dim once again.

"Fuck." Yeonjun curses out, obviously annoyed at the little interruption. Beomgyu's touch always seems to calm him down because soon, his worries melt away when he catches sight of the tenderness on the other boy's expression. They don't say anything else as Beomgyu carries him over to the couch, letting the other boy fall onto the cushions.

Another wince and a low curse of ah, shit spills from Yeonjun's lips but it doesn't seem to register in Beomgyu's head. He seems worried, fidgety as he pulls away to head over to the bedroom. Yeonjun doesn't have the energy to think about anything else, except for the fact that he wants to fall asleep for such a long time. He raises an arm and lets the moonlight slipping through his window flicker against his knuckles, highlighting the bruises against his skin.

He doesn't have time to worry about his injuries when Beomgyu comes back, this time carrying medical supplies. "I found this in your bedroom. Hope you don't mind that I use them."

"I bought them for myself, anyway so it's fine."

The lighthearted tone in Yeonjun's voice leaves Beomgyu cracking a smile as his shoulders relax. Though it doesn't miss Yeonjun's line of sight the way Beomgyu's fingers are twitching as he shakily starts to clean up his wounds, making sure to remove any remnants of dirts on his skin.

Yeonjun thinks it's endearing — to see the way Beomgyu's eyebrows furrow slightly, a frown starting to crease along the corners of his lips. He's so gentle with the way he's treating Yeonjun, fingers brushing against his skin as the cotton brushes softly against the wounds. It's almost as if their fight earlier didn't happen, if it wasn't for the way Beomgyu is trying his hardest to catch his breath as he tries his hardest not to burst into tears. 

He blinks rapidly, eyes focused on applying the bandages but it's as if he's avoiding the way Yeonjun is gazing at him with a fond look on his expression. It's difficult to tug away the tangled strings in their relationship — there's still too many insecurities gnawing away at them, too many secrets that are still weighing them down. 

But that doesn't seem to stop them from gravitating towards each other. Like their souls are meant to intertwine at one point of their lives. 

"I'm sorry," 

Yeonjun's voice is soft, airy that it almost drifts through the atmosphere without sparking another reaction from the other boy. Beomgyu pauses, fingers dragging against the cut on his lower lip and the little action leaves Yeonjun frowning slightly with a wince. This time, it's Beomgyu who mumbles _I'm sorry_ beneath his breath but it feels like an apology for what was said earlier. Or maybe it's just Yeonjun who's looking for anything that can show that Beomgyu wants to fix the broken cracks in their relationship too. 

His fingers fall still against the curve of Yeonjun's cheek, tracing the faint scar along his skin. They stare at each other and Yeonjun feels a tug in his heartstrings at the way the moonlight flickers along the features belonging to the dark haired boy — he looks ethereal like this. 

Achingly pretty, like how he first met him weeks and months ago.

Yeonjun finds himself admiring how pretty he looked; the way his eyelashes kiss the curve of his cheeks as he gazes at him with so much fondness. The moonlight is enough to make him see the way Beomgyu's eyes light up so beautifully, like there are galaxies hiding within him. As if the stars have themselves a home along the creases of Beomgyu's soul.

Yeonjun thinks he's pretty — he's always been right from the very start. 

He doesn't know how it happened — a moment ago, Beomgyu is gazing at him with so many emotions passing through his dark brown eyes. Time seems to fall still and go so fast all at once that Yeonjun is plunged into an abyss of confusion and overwhelming waves of emotions crashing in his chest. And now, his breath is stolen right away from his lungs when Beomgyu closes the distance between them, lips crashing against his.

It's rushed, a desperate sense of comfort as Beomgyu curls up against his body. Yeonjun is caught by surprise, eyes wide as he gazes at Beomgyu. But it doesn't take long before they slowly flutter shut, hands inching down Beomgyu's waist to pull him flushed against his frame. He feels so undeniably warm and god, even if the kiss feels like they're chasing after a needed comfort so desperately, Beomgyu had never felt so much like home before.

He knows why Beomgyu is kissing him like this — he needed the comfort. He needed to start untangling his emotions and Yeonjun is right here. After everything that ever happened between them, Beomgyu is rightfully overwhelmed and right now, Yeonjun is a constant that he needed in his life. A little reassurance that he wanted to have that everything will be okay in the very end.

Yeonjun is Beomgyu's safe place, after all. 

The blue haired boy knows that he's pulling on strings but as he pulls Beomgyu closer, kissing him deeper than before, he wants to be selfish. He wants to keep Beomgyu close to him, like he'll have him every single day of this lifetime. That he'll always have someone like him to go back home too.

For once in his life, Yeonjun doesn't feel lonely.

His fingers drift up the nape of Beomgyu's neck, tangling them around his dark strands and harshly tugging on them so he can pull him closer. He kisses him in a way that he wants to make Beomgyu melt in his arms, like he'll leave the younger boy craving for more after this. The kiss stings because of the cut against his lower lip but he disregards the numbing pain, too focused on making Beomgyu his for a moment.

He sinks his teeth onto his lower lip, a light tug on his flesh that leaves Beomgyu gasping softly, followed by a very low moan that gets muffled. It's endearing how Beomgyu is letting him take the lead, trusting him just enough to take care of him like this. Yeonjun doesn't pull away though the lack of oxygen is making his lungs feel like they're burning. The lingering sweet taste on Beomgyu's lips leaves him wanting more though he doesn't push it.

Beomgyu is the one who breaks the kiss and he looks slightly dazed though obviously flustered with the blush rising to his cheeks. It's such a lovely sight — god, Beomgyu really is _so_ lovely.

Yeonjun only curves his lips into a smile as Beomgyu lowers his head, leaning against his body and curling up. He feels so small when the blue haired male wraps his arms around his frame, his heart threatening to break his ribcage from how fast it was beating beneath his chest. He prays that Beomgyu wouldn't hear the way his heart is on the verge of falling right now when the younger boy presses his head on his chest.

Their breathing slows down into a steady pattern and Yeonjun forgets the time has fallen still for them. The night is hanging over their heads and the moonlight is slipping through the window, illuminating the living room in a soft glow that leaves Yeonjun wondering if this is all a dream. Beomgyu feels so small right now and it's as if he had made himself home in Yeonjun's arms, falling asleep so easily.

A tender smile curves upon Yeonjun's lips, fingers drifting through his dark strands. Their heartbeats collide for so many times and now they've intertwined together in a soothing melody that leaves Yeonjun drifting off with the warmth blooming through his ribcage.

If this is all a dream, he doesn't want to wake up from it.

Never again.


	4. if the world was ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (tw : violence, death, mentions of blood, mentions of panic attacks) 
> 
> In the midst of losing himself and everything that he used to know, Yeonjun takes a risk.
> 
> A risk that reminds him of all the tangles in his past with the people he held close to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fourth chapter is divided into two parts so remember to hit the next chapter to read the second part.

It's stifling, suffocating.

Beomgyu didn't mean to do it. His feelings are caught in his hands and they weigh heavily through his fingers, his head spinning too fast. He didn't realize what he did — all he felt was an intense wave of emotions crashing in him and soon, everything collapsed in its place.

The sight of Yeonjun's bloodied lip, the cuts across the bridge of his nose and down his jaw. His scar that runs across his cheek used to stand out to Beomgyu but seeing him so broken and bruised that night, every little injury that struck his features suddenly seemed to drown out that scar like it's nothing more than a faded line. 

It scared Beomgyu; he never felt so much fear coursing through his veins in his entire life. 

He wasn't afraid when his fingers were twitching as he held onto the bills, the nerves building up within him that his parents might see him and stop him from leaving. He wasn't afraid when his bag was resting by his feet while he sat in a bus running its path to Seoul, where he could lose himself so easily. He wasn't afraid that he was going to be alone. 

The moments that fear took over him were the times when Yeonjun was there. He was there when Beomgyu had a knife pressed against his throat, his knees shaking as he tried to tell them to  _ let me go, let me go please _ though his words had died on his lips that moment. He was the reason why Beomgyu had left the apartment at nearly nine in the evening because Yeonjun left after their fight ten hours ago and he couldn't get rid of the suffocating feeling within him that maybe, Yeonjun was in danger. He felt so much fear when he saw Yeonjun stumbling right into him, bruised and broken down that he collapsed so easily in his arms like he was too exhausted to exist at that second.

Beomgyu didn't want to get attached at all. But as he let the cotton drag across Yeonjun's bloody lip with only the moonlight filtering through the window, he felt everything within his body collapse in itself. His lungs felt like they were being pierced with shards of glass and his heart rose to his throat, pounding so relentlessly and reminding him of how fragile they are.

No matter how much they have tried to hold themselves up, they were too fragile. Yeonjun had been broken down since before he had no one to help him pick up the jagged pieces of his body. Beomgyu had been trying to rebuild his own shards over and over again even if they have been knocked over so relentlessly, but he likes to pretend that he was whole.

That he was all right, no matter what happens. 

But he realizes that he's not as strong as he likes to think of himself to be. He feels vulnerable deep within himself and he's so, so afraid that the next time that everything collapses within his body, he wouldn't be able to build himself up again. 

Maybe that's why when he catches a flicker of Yeonjun's features through the moonlight, he feels the overwhelming urge within him to reach out and hold him close. Feel his body rest against his own, their heartbeats intertwining once again. His thoughts have long since faded away when he reached out, fingers grasping Yeonjun's shirt to pull him closer. Tilting his head up, he lets his eyes fall shut and he feels the soft brush of their lips, kissing him in a sense of desperate comfort that he seeks for. 

His feelings for Yeonjun were tangled in a way that he could never pull them apart. But still, something tugged so hard in his heartstrings that he needed to feel Yeonjun was there, that he wasn't dreaming. He needed the reassurance that he found Yeonjun because he'll never forgive himself if something horrible happened to him. 

Beomgyu felt safe in his arms when he broke the kiss, sinking right into his embrace. He knew that he shouldn't be feeling like this — he shouldn't be getting attached to him in the first place. But the warmth that wrapped around his frame sent him burying his face against the crook of his neck, arms looped around his waist.

The way Yeonjun held him without another word made him feel like the older boy understood him. It was an impulsive decision but it was all right; this wouldn't affect what they have as of the moment.

_ Right? _

* * *

Their lives become intertwined in a way that Yeonjun never expected.

It's as if Yeonjun is slowly coming into the realization that Beomgyu might be here for a long,  _ long _ time. All the things that have weaved themselves into his routine — they broke themselves apart into uneven shards.

And Beomgyu had made himself home in the empty spaces of Yeonjun's life.

The littlest things like staying up all night and falling asleep in the comfort of his bed for a few hours in the daylight morning is nothing but a distant memory now. He finds himself drifting to Beomgyu, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the window as the younger boy slowly falls asleep with his fists around his dreams. He carefully watches him, lips curved downwards into a frown every time he sees the flicker of twitch of discomfort on Beomgyu's expression. 

Beomgyu's dreams are always riddled with nightmares tugging at the corners, leaving him breathless and shaking fervently on the bed. He murmurs words beneath his breath, ones that Yeonjun doesn't hear though the anxiety stays still within him anyway. 

He learns that Beomgyu calms down easily when he feels his presence so he settles right beside him every night. Their fingers brush just the slightest before he pulls him into his arms, letting Beomgyu melt into his arms once again. Beomgyu stiffens for a moment before his body eventually learns to familiarize itself with Yeonjun's touch — and he falls right into his arms, face tucked against his neck. 

(Yeonjun knew that somehow, Beomgyu found a safe place in him. 

And he didn't mind it at all.)

The older boy can never seem to fall asleep so easily but he finds contentment in knowing that Beomgyu is sleeping soundly in his arms. It's the way their chests rise and fall in the same pattern of time, a quiet reminder for Yeonjun that they're alive.

Growing up in a rough corner of Seoul, he didn't care if he got hurt or if he had to hurt someone. He already accepted the fact that no one is going to be there for him, that he had to learn how to defend himself and take care of himself. He didn't mind if his body got used to bruises or scars lining across his face because he had to live like this for as long as he knew about it.

But whenever he holds Beomgyu at night, he feels how fragile and small he is. He's reminded of all the dreams that he used to have when he was younger, the distant memory of wanting to escape Seoul and go somewhere else where he could exist peacefully. He drifts through his memories of sleepless nights, wondering how his life would have turned out — if only his mother wasn't killed in cold blood. If only he didn't learn to be a thief that loved the adrenaline in every moment that he existed.

If only his past didn't weigh itself upon his shoulders, chasing after him, no matter how many times he wants it to disappear.

He doesn't want Beomgyu to throw away his dreams like that. He's still young with his starry eyes constantly looking at skyscrapers and city lights, wondering how he'll live his own life. Beomgyu has the entire world in his palms and he doesn't even know it.

(Beomgyu has Yeonjun's heart in his hands too. Yeonjun doesn't mind if he chooses to ruin it when that time finally comes.)

The younger boy had stitched himself too far in Yeonjun's life that it would hurt to untangle the threads. It would hurt to see the empty spaces left behind but Yeonjun didn't want to believe it. 

He didn't want to believe that he subtly changed his routine in a way that he made a space just enough for Beomgyu to settle in. 

They never notice the tiniest changes in their habits, the way they're growing to learn more about each other. It's in the way that Beomgyu wakes up early because he knows that Yeonjun is going to sleep in, due to him staying up all night again. He'll cook breakfast for him (with whatever he can find in the fridge, always noting what is lacking so he can buy it for him), setting it aside in case Yeonjun had woken up already.

It's in the way that Yeonjun comes home with empty pockets because the guilt is starting to eat him up. Whenever his fingers brush against someone's wrist to pull off their jewelry, he pauses and backs away immediately. Whenever he feels the urge to steal, he buries it in the spaces of his ribcage, not wanting for the need to arise again.

He could never admit that he doesn't want to see Beomgyu disappointed in him again if he sees him stealing.

It's in the way that they'll sit on the couch when the twilight hangs itself above the lights of Seoul — Beomgyu's head is placed on Yeonjun's thigh whilst the blue haired boy has a small smile tugging on the edges of his mouth. He runs his fingers through his dark locks as Beomgyu tells him of everything that used to tangle with his past.

Beomgyu tells him about how he used to be a model student in his school; everyone loved him and looked up to him. Everyone wanted to be friends with one of the most sought after boys in the school. He knew, of course, that they're only in it for the popularity that's constantly chasing after Beomgyu so he lets them — he lets them linger close and pretend that they're friends, laughing at their jokes and teasing with them. He never felt at home with anybody there.

But he tells him too, about the younger boy who liked him for who he is. Who, despite how Beomgyu didn't have time for him before because he was busy entertaining other people, waited patiently for him to befriend him without any strings attached. Beomgyu thinks about him — the boy named Taehyun that he left behind.

He knew that Taehyun isn't all that lonely; he was popular too. He had a boyfriend named Kai, someone who was always there to make him laugh. They're in a group of friends that were always together, no matter what.

Beomgyu wonders how in the world Taehyun had so much patience to wait for him to open up and be close to him. He was suspicious at first but Taehyun had been nothing but kind to him. It still hurts that he left him behind, even though he knows that he can trust Kai to take care of him.

"They're always together, anyway. I just thought that Taehyun wouldn't notice that I was gone since we barely talked the last two weeks before I abruptly left," Beomgyu heaves a sigh and Yeonjun stops running his fingers through his dark strands though his attention is fixated on him only. He lets the younger boy drift through his thoughts, getting lost in a sea of memories as he murmurs his words.

"Taehyun was the only one I held close to me."

Yeonjun stays quiet for a moment before he speaks up, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "Was he special to you?"

It's a long stretch of silence before Beomgyu speaks, "Yes," and his voice becomes softer, like he's realizing what the word meant on the tip of his tongue. There's a flicker of sadness on his expression as he stares absentmindedly at the ceiling instead.

"He's still special to me."

And Yeonjun thinks that he understands, in a way that he considered Soobin as his family before they got ripped apart from each other. The image of Soobin staring at him forlornly after hurting him accidentally flashes before his eyes so fast that he has to let his eyes fall shut. He lulls the memory away, steadying his breathing and reminding himself that somewhere out there, Soobin is okay. 

He made a promise to Yeonjun that he'll be okay. 

As Yeonjun lets his eyes flutter open slowly, his gaze falls on the sadness that traces itself on Beomgyu's features. That's how Yeonjun realizes that Beomgyu and him are worlds upon worlds apart.

It's the lingering sense of nostalgia for Beomgyu, the yearning for the past and for what's to come. For Yeonjun, it's living in the frozen second of the time, never worrying if tomorrow will ever come. They're not supposed to collide but somehow, fate managed to let their worlds overlap and somewhere along the way, they grew fond of each other.

As the dusk slowly slips away, the moonlight flickering through the window, Yeonjun comes to the realization of one thing.

If fate intertwined their paths to meet like this, then he'll make sure that if ever Beomgyu decides to leave, he can look back on his stay here as something that he loved in his memories.

He hopes that one day, when Beomgyu looks back, he'll remember them like this — Beomgyu with his dreamy, starry eyes staring at the skies and Yeonjun with his eyes always falling on the same one star that he has grown so, so fond of. 

* * *

Yeonjun could feel the hunger sink in his stomach one night, when he came home early again. His pockets remain empty and the thought of going outside to easily swipe for a few coins from drunkards is rather tempting. But he hesitates when he sees in his mind the flicker of disappointment written on Beomgyu's features.

Somehow, that's the only way for him to stop completely from what he was used to doing.

The itch is there, always begging for him to slip away and steal once again but whenever he steps back into the apartment, Beomgyu always greets him with the brightest eyes and such a sweet smile. It makes all his doubts and worries fade away into nothingness, reminding him that maybe it's worth it.

Maybe seeing Beomgyu smile at him like that is worth it.

Yeonjun lets his teeth sink onto his lower lip, standing from the couch as he wraps his arms around his stomach. He hesitates for a moment before he approaches the shoe rack, ready to slip on his shoes. But the creak of the door resonating within the already dark apartment leaves him reeling as he turns around. 

Beomgyu doesn't look like he has fallen asleep yet. He's still dressed in his white shirt and sweatpants, hair brushed back as he runs his fingers through his dark strands. He eyes Yeonjun for a second, a brow arching in wonder. 

"Where are you going? It's almost midnight." 

Even through the darkness blanketing over the apartment, Yeonjun can clearly see the way the curiosity draws itself on Beomgyu's expression. Yeonjun becomes hesitant before he speaks with a tint of hopefulness coloring itself unknowingly in his tone, "I'm planning to head out to grab some ramen. I'm hungry." 

"Me too," Beomgyu pipes up and when he steps close, the moonlight showers over him. Yeonjun can clearly see the light blush across his cheeks as the younger boy continues talking, "Can I join you?" 

"Only if you pay."

Yeonjun's words leave Beomgyu grumbling though he doesn't voice out a complaint, only nodding his head. He slips on his shoes as Yeonjun readies himself, patting down his pockets to make sure that his keys are with him.

They're quiet as they slip out of the apartment, with Yeonjun locking the door right behind him. He twisted the doorknob a few times to make sure that it was locked before he jams the keys in his pocket. Their steps fall in sync as they make their way down the concrete steps, letting their footsteps resound around the stairwell, disrupting the line of silence.

The two boys don't exchange any words as they make their way out of the building, walking slowly to the convenience store. But the silence that stretches between them is comforting; every step that accompanies them along the way is a quiet reminder for Yeonjun that Beomgyu is right here with him. Under the bright city lights of Seoul, where the night and the light meet halfway.

Yeonjun thinks that he loves the littlest moments he has with Beomgyu like this.

When Beomgyu catches sight of the store, he lights up visibly as he approaches the doors, pushing them open. Yeonjun lingers behind him with a smile slowly curving upon his lips. It's such an endearing sight — to see the happiness on Beomgyu's expression. 

In the times when Yeonjun wonders if Beomgyu ever had regrets in meeting him, it's moments like this when he realizes that Beomgyu is happy right now. Whether it's because of hin or because he's finally away from all the pressure, that he could finally feel the freedom that he craved for so long, Yeonjun will still learn to love the look of happiness on him.

Happiness looks so pretty on someone like Beomgyu.

The convenience store is quiet and empty, with only them and two other people that seem to be still awake at midnight. They barely pay attention to anyone else, plunging themselves deep into their own world. The light flickers above them every few seconds but it doesn't bother them — they're used to the light going out in the apartment that they share, anyway.

"How about this?" Beomgyu picks out a cup of ramen from the aisle, lips pursued into a thin line.

"That?" Yeonjun scoffs, picking out another brand and letting the weight of the ramen pack rest against his palm. "I knew that you were rich but I didn't know that you didn't learn how to eat the best ramen here."

"Shut up." Beomgyu grumbles again though there's no hidden malice wrapping itself around his words. He searches through the packs again, putting away the first one that he chose. "I'm the one paying this time. Act nice, Yeonjun."

Yeonjun figures that there isn't anything particularly romantic in being in a convenience store past midnight, watching the night pass by slowly through the glass windows. He shouldn't feel like his heart is going to burst right through his chest right now as his eyes flicker to everything else before his gaze finally falls on the younger boy.

As Yeonjun stares at Beomgyu — his eyes brightly lit under the fluorescent lights of the local convenience store and the smile lingering along the curves of his lips — he realizes that his heart has finally fallen right into the other boy's hands.

No, he didn't fall in love with him when they crossed paths in that dark alleyway that night. He didn't fall in love with him when Beomgyu held his body against his own when he felt like he was going to break down because of how his life was spiraling. Hell, he didn't fall in love when Beomgyu tilted his head and left a kiss on his lips that made his heart skip only a beat so many nights ago. 

But he falls in love without any hesitation as he stands next to him, watching the happiness written across the creases of Beomgyu's expression. Seeing the way he looks awfully happy when he looked nothing short of being broken months ago.

Yeonjun falls so utterly and completely in love with him.

And the thought itself is terrifying.

Who exactly is Beomgyu to come into his life and cause havoc within him? Who is he that he can cause hurricanes and tsunamis to collide in Yeonjun's rib cage, drowning him under the intense wave of emotions raging inside of him so angrily? Who is Beomgyu that he made Yeonjun into someone he could never recognize months ago?

"Yeonjun?"

Beomgyu's voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he stands there, blinking rapidly as his chest squeezes painfully tight for a moment. He takes a deep breath before focusing his attention on the other boy, realizing that Beomgyu is gazing at him with eyes tinted with worry.

"Are you okay? Do you not feel well?"

"I'm fine," He swallows the emotions that feel like bursting through his chest right now, suppressing each and every word that wants to leave his lips, "I'm fine, don't worry."

"Okay."

The dark haired boy doesn't seem convinced at all but he nods his head quietly, never pushing him to answer him. Yeonjun lets a sigh of relief spill from his lips, silencing himself when Beomgyu glances at him with a wide smile written on his lips.

"I'll pay for this," He tilts his head in the direction of the tables sitting at the other end of the store. They look cold and lonely but Yeonjun shrugs the feeling away from his shoulders, hands slipping right into the pockets of his jeans. 

"You can stay there for a bit." 

Yeonjun parts his lips but he holds himself back, shaking his head the slightest with a slight tug on his lips. There's warmth that travels through his veins, quietly making itself home in the empty spaces of his ribcage. He steps away as Beomgyu checks the packs of ramen again, his expression creasing slightly as his eyebrows knit together. 

The quiet whirring of the fan hanging over his head trails after Yeonjun as he slips into the seat right beside the window. His eyes are fixated on the way the night falls asleep right before his eyes — it's too silent outside, even if the city lights at the distance are still lit up, like they have always been. A car runs past every now and then and Yeonjun finds himself letting his eyes follow it, in a way to get rid of the thoughts cluttering his head. Everything seems rather more interesting than to notice that the way his throat tightens the slightest whenever he thinks about Beomgyu. The way his fingers twitch whenever he thinks of Beomgyu and the way he wouldn't mind seeing that smile every day of his life—

_ No _ , Yeonjun tightly shuts his eyes and swallows the emotions that keep threatening to explode within him.  _ I can't get attached. I can't get attached to him. _

"Hey," A voice rings through the silent atmosphere, roughly taking him away from his thoughts. When Yeonjun's eyes flicker over to the direction of the voice, he's met with an amused smile drawn across Beomgyu's lips as he slides a tray with their ramen set on top of it. The steam swirls above the noodles and Yeonjun is briefly distracted as Beomgyu slides a pair of chopsticks over to him. 

"You keep on spacing out a lot these days. Are you okay?" 

_ Beomgyu, I think I like you.  _

Yeonjun forces himself not to let those words spill from his lips, only showing a tight-lipped smile at him. "I'm okay, just thinking about a lot of things." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Beomgyu has a streak of concern and worry drawn across his features and Yeonjun stiffens slightly in response. He sinks his teeth onto his lower lip, eyes flickering over to the dark haired boy. His eyes are quick to take in the sight of the ramen set before them and Yeonjun wonders why Beomgyu loves to take care of him.

Now that he thinks of it, Beomgyu fusses a lot over him. He chooses to clean the apartment, making sure that every corner is dusted away and every inch of the floor is spotless. He chooses to cook a lot for Yeonjun, even if the older boy is capable of doing all of it by himself. 

(He didn't mind that sometimes, Beomgyu would cook the same meal because it's all that he knows. Yeonjun only lets a laugh fall from his lips at those moments, finding it rather endearing at how much effort Beomgyu puts in cooking for him. 

It never mattered to him about the little things that should have annoyed him months ago. He always finds comfort in sitting across from Beomgyu, eating yet again the same leftovers as last night.)

Yeonjun takes his chopsticks and mindlessly swirls the noodles around. The scent of the ramen makes his stomach sink against itself but the urge to seek for the answers that he's been looking for remains there. 

"You like taking care of me," Yeonjun lets the noodles wrap around the ends of his chopsticks, raising them slightly. The steam gently wafts over to the window, causing it to fog over.

"Why?" 

Beomgyu pauses from tending to his own ramen, sinking his teeth down on the noodles to cut them off before he chews on them. He lightly shrugs his shoulders as soon as he swallows, eyes focused on his food only. 

"I just do. I like taking care of you, Yeonjun." 

The blue haired boy lets a scoff slip by his lips, shaking his head. He dips his head to take a bite of his ramen, chewing on them and swallowing them before he speaks, "That's rotten work." 

Only the silence is able to give him an answer, stretching itself so far thin that when Yeonjun finally takes his attention away from his ramen, his eyes linger on the fond look that briefly flickers on Beomgyu's features. He gazes at Yeonjun with a smile almost tugging on his lips, eyes starry as ever. 

"Not to me," His voice becomes softer as he murmurs, eyes downcast. "Not if it's you." 

Yeonjun sits there, fingers tightening around the ends of his chopsticks. He gazes at Beomgyu easily diving back into his ramen, no longer paying attention to him as he drifts through his own thoughts. The older boy stares at him, the warmth finally making a home in his chest and reminding him of what he feels for Beomgyu — it's fondness settling in the spaces of his ribs.

_ Beomgyu, I think I do like you. _

The words quietly lay themselves on his lips as he curves his lips into a saddened smile, staring down at his plate. 

He doesn't have the courage to say those words. 

_ Not yet.  _

* * *

Yeonjun should have realized that something was going wrong at that moment. 

The constant ticking of the clock that used to only stitch itself across the walls, a blissful ignorance of how much time had passed — it's now an echoing mockery of Yeonjun's thoughts. The hands of the clock are going by slowly and all too fast at once, as if they're frozen for a stretch of a moment before hastily chasing after the time that Yeonjun had missed out. 

He sits by the couch, his foot tapping against the floor. It's a steady beat that goes  _ thump, thump, thump _ ; a sound that resonates within the once silent apartment. It's nearing eight forty five in the evening and Beomgyu still hasn't come home. 

Beomgyu left the apartment at one in the afternoon, a smile curved up along his lips as he glanced at Yeonjun. He held on the door and gave a little wave at his direction, eyes crinkling. 

"I just need to buy something. I'll see you later, Yeonjun." 

Yeonjun shouldn't worry — he knows that he shouldn't be worried. It might be his anxiety clawing up his lungs, rendering him breathless as he nervously wrings his hands.  _ Maybe he got stuck in a crowd. Maybe there was a long line and he can't find a way to get home. _

The excuses that he spun for himself are nothing short of being ludicrous. They linger at the edges of his thoughts but they never get rid of the lingering worry that settles in Yeonjun's veins. He despises the feeling of sitting and not doing anything. What if Beomgyu had been caught in trouble? What if it's like the very first night they met — a knife against Beomgyu's throat as Yeonjun stands a few meters away, staring down at the dark haired boy.

Yeonjun sinks down onto the couch, running a hand frustratedly down the side of his face. He lets the pads of his fingers press against the faint scar that ran along his cheek before he buries his face in his palms. He takes a deep breath, reeling his nerves to slip into a sense of calmness. His tangled thoughts are desperately trying to pull themselves apart but they only loop themselves even more the more he thinks about Beomgyu.

He knows that this corner of Seoul is rough, a collection of criminals with blood in their hands. Yeonjun should've been more careful into letting Beomgyu into his life — what if he stumbles into a line of trouble that he can't get himself out of? Yeonjun's name is one that is spoken with malice; danger tugs on the corners of every syllable. He has a reputation of being ruthless, of not caring if anyone else would get hurt.

Of course, anyone would try so hard to go after the one that Yeonjun holds close to him.

The blue haired thief can feel himself stiffen at the cold realization washing over him, eyes staring at the wall right in front of him. His throat tightens and he can't breath, his emotions sink their claws into his lungs and his head is spinning so fast that he can't think of anything but  _ Beomgyu, Beomgyu, only Beomgyu. _

He can't sit still. Not when Beomgyu might be in danger.

Yeonjun stands abruptly from the couch, a prayer to the stars and to every other god that he knows of falling from his mouth — he prays that Beomgyu would walk through the front door, an arm wrapped around his paper bag and his dark blue shirt that is creased against his body. He prays that he'll see that half smile that is curved along his lips, the way the corners of his mouth are pulled into a wider smile when he catches sight of Yeonjun.

_ Yeonjun! _ He always calls out, his eyes as bright as the stars.  _ Sorry I was out late today. I bought you your favorites though so it's all fine, right?  _

(The blue haired boy never tells him that he's constantly worrying about Beomgyu. He never once told him how much Beomgyu means to him.) 

The little interaction that used to leave a trail of warmth in Yeonjun's chest is one that Yeonjun is desperately chasing after now. He can feel his fingers twitching at his sides, waiting by the couch for three, five, ten minutes and Beomgyu is still not here.

_ He's still not here. _

It's nine in the evening and the desperation to find him claws at his lungs, forcing Yeonjun to hurriedly slip into his shoes. He can't get rid of the worry that clings tightly to his bones, head riddled with so many thoughts. Yeonjun walks so fast that he's out of the door in a few seconds, feet angrily pattering against the concrete steps. The sound resonates so loudly in the still apartment building but he didn't care.

He doesn't care about anything else. He only cares about finding Beomgyu, safe and sound.

That's all he wants.

The air leaves his lungs as Yeonjun pushes himself to run out of the building, legs pumping as the ache settles in his bones. He's running on the adrenaline, the aching worry and anxiety within him is enough to fuel his need to find the younger boy. Yeonjun's eyes are constantly searching for his black hair, his creased dark blue shirt pressed against his torso. Even as he runs through the dark alleys that are barely lit by the streetlights, he wishes that he'll collide into Beomgyu.

The hope lingers in him, despite his head screaming at him that Beomgyu is in danger. He needs him right now.

He weaves through the crowded areas, pausing every now and then to catch sight of the boy that he's been searching for the past twenty minutes. Yeonjun can feel the stares burning on his back, the questioning gazes directed at him but he ignores them. He doesn't have time to see the flickers of interest and curiosity from the passersby, his head too focused on finding any sort of trace of the dark haired boy.

Yeonjun can feel the urge to approach someone, anyone and ask them —  _ have you seen him? Have you seen Beomgyu? _ But he knows that he'll only drag them further into danger so he keeps his mouth shut, praying to the stars above that they'll lead him in Beomgyu's path.

The blue haired thief slips away from the crowded areas, slipping into the darker and less populated areas of Seoul. He doesn't even recognize the streets anymore — they're a mess of letters and syllables that flood through Yeonjun's mind, plunging him in an ocean of confusion and anxiety. His legs are aching as he almost curses out at the thought that maybe if Beomgyu had a phone on him, he could have called him.

But Beomgyu is persistent in not getting tracked down from anyone that used to know him in Daegu. What is Yeonjun supposed to do now? Continue praying to the stars and to Fate herself that they'll see his distress and misfortunate, take pity on him and lead him down the right path?

At this point, it feels like the only thing that Yeonjun can ever do.

He doesn't know how long he has been walking — it could have been hours already. He knows that his body is exhausted but the adrenaline is seeping through his veins, forcing the rest of his limbs to fall into sync with what he has set his mind to do. He's getting further and further down into unknown territory, twisting into streets and alleys as he tries to find the same boy that he had been waiting for back at home.

What if Beomgyu wasn't in trouble? What if he had gone home already — what if he sees the cold, empty apartment and he wonders where Yeonjun head off to at this time of the night? 

Yeonjun is ready to give up entirely but he stops completely but he hears it. 

A very distant yet clear sound of a gunshot going off. 

He's seized with fear and despite his head screaming at him this time to  _ get out, get out while you still can _ — he couldn't ignore it. Yeonjun runs in the direction of the gunshot, his heart rising to his throat as the fear controls his body. Fear that something might have happened to Beomgyu, that he's falling in danger right now. It's the fear that courses through his body, forcing him to run faster and faster, desperately chasing after the need to see Beomgyu alive. 

He's still alive. He needs to be alive.

Yeonjun's legs are on the verge of completely giving out, forcing him to take a moment to catch his breath. He's shaking and he feels so anxious, feeling like every second that he doesn't move, he's going to lose him. The blue haired boy doesn't even know if Beomgyu is really there but he can't let his doubts take hold of his heart again.

Another deafening sound of the gunshot rings through the atmosphere, drawing his attention to the front. It sounds so much nearer and more real — this is no longer a dream that he's drifting to. Yeonjun draws in a deep breath, forcing himself to run even more and he hears the way his heart is pounding in his ears, cheeks becoming flushed as he tries hard to steady his breathing.

When the blue haired boy finally rounds the corner, he feels his entire body fall stiff. He stands there, eyes wide as the fear slithers around his bones and his veins, forcing him to take in the sight presented before him.

There are guns pointed at too many people and the blood seeps through the streets, painting them with dark red. The sight of so much blood and the amount of injuries inflicted on the civilians and criminals alike forcefully drags Yeonjun through his clear cut memories.

He remembers Soobin, the smell of thick blood hanging in the atmosphere. He remembers how their hands were stained with blood and how Soobin held onto the handle of the knife so tightly that his knuckles turned white beneath the red. He's taken through his memories of him trying to take Soobin with him but the boy only jerks away, the knife dragging against his cheek.

Yeonjun remembers every detail so vividly and it hurts to breathe. He hates himself for cowering behind a building, hands over his ears as he tries to steady his breathing. He could hear the sound of car doors slamming and he holds his hands even more against his ears to block out the sound. When he first heard the gunshot, it felt like a fever dream that he could still wake up from.

But he's here now and it's making him lose his mind.

With a deep breath, he sits there behind the building, eyes screwed tight. He focuses on anything else but the sound of guns and muffled screams still echoing all around him. Yeonjun is shaking badly but he needs to calm himself down because what if Beomgyu is in there? What if he's caught in the shootout?

When he feels himself slowly coming back to reality, he breathes out a deep, shaky sigh. He's more exhausted than now, like his body is about to give up.

_ Not yet, _ he murmurs to himself, arms wrapped around his frame. He stands from his position and reels his nerves to face the deadly sight right in front of him.  _ Not yet. _

Yeonjun draws in a deep breath, whispering over and over again to himself that  _ I'm okay, I'll be okay. I need to protect Beomgyu, he's my priority right now. _ When he lets his eyes flutter open, he's staring at the vast empty space of a lot and the distinct sound of guns still being fired, as well as loud yells caught in between. He forces himself to stand, the adrenaline still thankfully running through his veins just enough to turn back to the bloody scene. He wants to run away and hide but he pushes himself, eyes fixated on finding the same boy.

He doesn't stop praying — that he won't catch sight of Beomgyu in here. That Beomgyu is safe at their shared apartment, waiting for him to come back home. But fate is so awfully cruel to them at that very moment.

Yeonjun freezes when his line of sight finally falls on a boy that looks bruised and beaten down. He's curled up on the floor, blood staining his cheek as he tries to push himself to sit up at least. Instead, a man comes close, fingers digging around Beomgyu's shoulder to roughly pull on his body. 

The dark blue shirt that was creased when Beomgyu left the apartment this afternoon is now riddled with cuts and the blood seeping through the fabric. He's holding onto his bleeding arm, body shaking so hard as he yells out in pain from the harsh grip on his shoulder. The man that's holding onto him has no sense of remorse, relishing in the fact that he caught someone that he could hurt without a care in the world. Beomgyu's eyes are flickering back and forth in fear and desperation before his gaze finally falls on Yeonjun, standing a few meters away.

For a second, Yeonjun is taken back to the time when he saw the knife pressed against Beomgyu's throat, sharp enough to leave a mark at that time. And at that moment, he only felt anger rush through his veins because someone else was in his territory. He didn't care if Beomgyu would leave that situation bloodied and bruised — no one else is simply allowed to cross over that line.

But he's right here, watching as Beomgyu gets roughly dragged over to a dark alley. The obvious desperation painted on the younger boy's features, begging for him to rescue him once again. The anger bursts through his chest, making him see red that he didn't even take a step back to realize what he is about to do. He rushes over to the alley, narrowly avoiding any more bullets that may drag themselves against his body. He moves so fast, lithe body easily using the wall to scale the way he runs down the path and heading straight to the alley.

There's a click of a gun when Yeonjun finally slips into the alley, feeling a sense of deja vu as he stands at the entry point. His stomach twists in itself when he sees the barrel of the gun drag against Beomgyu's bleeding cut on his cheek, staining the steel with bright red. A wince falls from Beomgyu, desperately trying to pull away from the man's hold onto him but instead, he falls limp when he realizes that the grip on his body only becomes rougher the more he resists. 

"Please don't kill me," He echoes the pleas that he used to whisper back when he first crossed had a knife lay itself against his throat, "I swear, I'm not a bad person." 

"I don't care. Boss said that we shouldn't leave anyone alive here." The man's voice is raspy as he holds the gun against Beomgyu's temple, forcing the younger boy to sink his teeth onto his lower lip to stop a sob from leaving his lips. His smile is sinister, unforgiving as he gazes at Beomgyu with a cold stare that can send chills down anyone's spine. 

"Don't worry, this will be quick—" 

"Drop the gun." 

Yeonjun's voice is loud and steady, echoing within the dark alley. Months ago, Beomgyu felt afraid of him, wondering how much power he had over a lot of people that they trembled right before his presence. And now, he stands there, teeth gritting and there's anger that streaks across his expression. He's not aloof nor cold — from the sight of his dark, fox-like eyes falling on the two of them, he knows that Yeonjun had delved into a persona that he had tried his hardest to bury for so long already. 

The Yeonjun that stands before him is someone new; someone who is ready to kill if he needs to. Beomgyu's gaze hastily falls on the knife laying against Yeonjun's palm, fingers gripping the handle and slowly tightening his hold around it, his knuckles turning white. Fist shaking as he steps closer, letting the moonlight flicker against the blade and spark the fear in Beomgyu's chest. 

He's terrifying. So, so terrifying right now.

"Choi Yeonjun." The way Yeonjun's name falls from the other man's lips is spoken with so much hatred and Beomgyu can feel the anger radiating from him as he feels the way his chin is tilted up, the barrel of the gun dragging against the side of his face. He's shivering badly and he can feel the fear keep a tight grip around his body.

"What are you doing here?"

"I said, drop the gun. Are you incapable of understanding something so simple?" Yeonjun sneers as he ignores the other male's words, stepping closer and Beomgyu feels his heart rise to his throat when he feels the gun nuzzle against his temple again. Yeonjun pauses, eyes flickering from Beomgyu's expression though his own features are void of any sort of emotions. The only reaction that he draws out from the blue haired thief is the way his fingers squeeze around the handle of the knife again.

"Why? Wouldn't it be fun to ruin such a pretty face?"

There's a flicker of an emotion that passes by so fast in Yeonjun's dark eyes. But he doesn't need to realize what it is — everything moves too fast that the thought doesn't linger in Beomgyu's head.

It's as if the world has dragged itself into seconds that pass by too slowly before the hands of the clock become wired to spin so fast that Beomgyu becomes caught in between everything. One second, he sees the way Yeonjun takes half a step back before he raises his arm. The next second, he flicks his wrist and the knife is released from his grip.

The knife flies so fast that no one can react quickly to avoid it. It digs against the man's shoulder, earning a rough yell from the man as he pushes Beomgyu away. He drops the gun to the ground, the weapon clattering noisily but he doesn't do anything to retrieve it.

Beomgyu, without any sort of hesitation, hurriedly kicks the weapon straight to Yeonjun's feet before the pain circulates through his body. The fabric of his creased shirt is soaked in his blood but he pushes himself to stand up, a hand wrapped around his still bleeding arm.

Yeonjun is shaken awake from what he did, eyes blinking rapidly before he hastily picks up the gun from the gravel. He hurries over to Beomgyu and he wraps his fingers around his arm, tugging on him harshly to pull him right behind his back. Beomgyu stumbles back to the ground but Yeonjun is too focused on the other man, his lips twisted into a deep frown as his dark eyes lit up with anger at what he threatened to do to Beomgyu.

He raises the gun but he's shaking badly, watching as the other man sinks his teeth onto his lower lip. He struggles to stand upright as the pain runs down his bleeding shoulder; that doesn't seem to be enough for him to give up in hurting Beomgyu.

"What? Are you going to shoot me?"

The laugh that leaves the man's lips is boisterous as it echoes around the alley. Yeonjun doesn't flinch at his words but his body did stiffen, his eyes becoming unfocused. Everyone knew that Yeonjun is skilled with a knife but not with a gun. Never with a gun.

He didn't realize how heavy the gun feels in his hand — it didn't feel like this when Soobin once taught him before. He briefly dives into his memory of the younger boy standing close to him; they've found themselves away from Seoul to find an open field where Soobin can teach him how to use a gun. Even if he knew that he never would want to use one.

But here he is, beads of sweat running down the side of his face and the gun aimed directly at the other male. Beomgyu is shivering right beside him but he can't take his eyes away from the man, knowing that every second is critical.

One wrong move and one of them might end up dead tonight.

"I'm giving you a chance," Yeonjun's voice is steady despite the way his fingers are twitching right now. It's an ache that wraps around his bones and veins, reminding him of how much the fear is running up to him now, even though he had tried to suppress it for so many years already.

"You can leave without hurting us," There's a distinct click of the gun as Yeonjun loads the weapon, eyes narrowed at him dangerously, "Or would you rather meet your end here?"

The man raises his hands, as if he's surrendering to his defeat. The knife drives itself further in his shoulder, forcing him to grit his teeth to not let a pained groan slip by his mouth. "You're acting awfully brave, aren't you? You wouldn't be able to shoot me." There's a sinister smile drawn across his lips again and Yeonjun can feel the shivers run down his spine. He willingly places his hands behind his head, exposing himself in such a vulnerable way that Yeonjun could kill him if he wanted to.

"Come on, shoot me."

Yeonjun stands there, his gun aimed at the other man. There's an echo of ringing in his ears, silencing every thought, every yell that resonates and every muffled gunshot right outside the alley. He forgets that Beomgyu is pressed against him, still bleeding with his wounds serving a reminder of how much the pain has slipped through his veins. He only sees the other man, a mockery of everything that Yeonjun hated more than anything in the world.

He wants to shoot him — but fuck,  _ he can't. _

The blue haired boy only remembers Soobin. He remembers his mother getting shot and left to die in cold blood. What would they think of him? Didn't he once say that killing someone with a gun is such a cowardly way to kill anyone?

What is he doing right now?

"I knew it," His expression is gleeful, clearly mocking the thief as he sneers, "Your mother would be ashamed to see how much of a coward you are, Yeonjun."

The red that used to only tug on the edges of his vision suddenly slips right into his line of sight. His breath is knocked out of his lungs and he's shaking so hard, blood red filling his gaze and he couldn't control himself anymore. He loses himself as he fires three shots, not knowing if the bullets that escaped have pierced right through the other man's body.

Yeonjun lets the weapon fall to the ground, the loud clatter is enough to erase the red that filled his eyes. When he stumbles right back into reality, he finds himself staring at the man with the bullet holes embedded right at his chest, his body falling lifelessly to the pavement. The blood seeps through the gravel and Yeonjun can remember it all over again — the sight of Soobin becoming distant and lost in his thoughts.

It's in that moment that Yeonjun finally understands him.

"I'm sorry," The words feel heavy on his tongue and something deep within him collapses, like all the parts that he had spent such a long time rebuilding into shards is nothing more than a ruined mess now. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry — oh god."

"Yeonjun, Yeonjun," He feels Beomgyu's arms slide around his body as he willingly sinks right into his embrace. His heart is racing, rising to his throat as it beats so fast that he can't hear anything else right now. Except for Beomgyu's soothing voice echoing in his ears. 

"I'm here. Don't cry, I'm right here."

Beomgyu's dark blue shirt is crumpled up, dried blood that had soaked through the fabric nearly an hour ago. Still, Yeonjun finds comfort in his arms, feeling small and vulnerable as Beomgyu holds him close, running a hand down his back. They're ruined, broken down into pieces but right now, they feel like they would be okay.

They'll be okay.

_ Right? _


	5. the day you said goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (tw : mentions of blood and injuries) 
> 
> Yeonjun will always be Beomgyu's safe place.
> 
> And Beomgyu will always be Yeonjun's home.

It's such a long way back home but they didn't stop walking together.

Beomgyu leaned against his body, his arm wrapped around Yeonjun's shoulder whilst the older boy had his own arm tightly wound around his waist to keep him up right. They're exhausted, the adrenaline finally fading away as they left the scene, no longer caring to see how the blue and red lights flashed through the streets. They walked as fast as they could to escape the watchful eye of everyone else that may stand as a witness, wanting to get rid of any lingering effects of tonight's shootout.

Beomgyu doesn't have any bullets that pierced through his body but they did graze his skin, enough to the point that he started bleeding. He wasn't badly injured but Yeonjun still held him close, wanting to feel more of him so he can get rid of the doubts in his mind that this is only a fever dream.

When Beomgyu's gaze falls on him, he sees the flicker of exhaustion on Yeonjun's features, the way he's subtly leaning against the younger boy for more warmth. Beomgyu pulls him closer and he lets their steps fall in sync, allowing the sound to resonate within the empty streets. Every now and then, there's the sound of a wince when Beomgyu feels the pain strike along his wounds or the heavy sigh slipping past Yeonjun's lips because he's so tired. 

The silence is broken between them when Beomgyu finally speaks, his voice soft as ever. "I'm sorry." 

Yeonjun doesn't spare him a glance though the way Beomgyu can feel the way he tightens his hold around his waist is enough for him to realize that the blue haired male is listening to him. It takes a moment before he finally speaks up with curiosity lacing his tone, "Why?" 

"I feel like," Beomgyu swallows thickly, feeling the rough breath get stuck in his throat, "It's my fault. I shouldn't have left the apartment today. I shouldn't have walked so far, just so I can buy something—" 

"Stop." Yeonjun's voice is clear, firm as ever that Beomgyu falls silent. He can feel the older male's gaze fall on him before they abruptly halt in walking, their footsteps finally stilling in the midst of the heavy darkness of the night. 

Yeonjun doesn't hesitate for a second — still keeping an arm around his waist, he pulls Beomgyu right into his embrace. His arms tighten around his body and Beomgyu can feel himself slowly melting as he buries his face against the crook of his neck, a deep breath falling from his lips. He feels so safe in Yeonjun's arms and it hurts so much that he's the reason that the blue haired boy went through so much stress and paranoia tonight.

"It's okay, Beomgyu," Yeonjun's voice is rough around the edges but Beomgyu didn't mind at all. It's enough for him to sink further into his arms, teeth sinking onto his lower lip to stop a sob from leaving his mouth. He can feel his warm hand down his back, soothingly running down the expanse to calm him down.

"It's going to be okay, I promise."

And he believes him; he knows that it's strange that he has so much trust in someone like Yeonjun. But Yeonjun is no longer that blue haired thief that he saw months ago — he's no longer the boy who only uses sarcastic words or the way he stands tall before Beomgyu to show that he isn't one to be broken down.

He is Yeonjun — the boy who broke down in his arms because there's so much burden weighing down his ribcage, a reminder of how he tried to suppress everything for so long. He's Yeonjun, the same boy who willingly alternated his routine because he's finally letting someone like Beomgyu settle in, like he wants him to stay for a very long time. The same boy who became Beomgyu's safe place.

Yeonjun will always be Beomgyu's safe place.

They break apart but Yeonjun keeps his arm around his waist whilst Beomgyu wraps an arm around his shoulder to keep himself upright. They lean against each other — Yeonjun's cheek softly pressing against Beomgyu's dark strands and the feeling of their body warmth is enough for him to fall silent again, the comfort finally settling around their veins.

Finally, they make their way back home. Just like they always do at the end of the night.

(Yeonjun lets his eyes flicker over to Beomgyu, seeing the way the younger boy shifts closer to him subtly. He turns his head, just enough to subtly tilt his head and leave a lingering kiss on top of his head. It's soft, barely noticeable but their hearts flutter nevertheless.

Yeonjun already feels at home with him.)

* * *

It's nearing two in the morning when they finally make their way back to the apartment building. Exhaustion tightly coils around their veins as they take a step together up the concrete steps, murmuring the numbers beneath their breath. Yeonjun has his arm tightly wrapped around his waist and Beomgyu willingly leans against his body, letting the older boy support him.

Their steps continue to be in sync as they make their way to their shared apartment, with Yeonjun clumsily taking the keys out of his pocket. He lets the key rest between his fingers, slipping it into the lock and turning it until he hears the distinct  _ click _ coming from the door.

The coldness wraps itself like an embrace around their bodies when Yeonjun leads them inside, his hand hurriedly hitting the switch of the light. It takes several tries but soon, the warmth of the light floods the room, illuminating the furniture and all the corners that the light could ever reach. Yeonjun pulls away subtly so he can shut the door and lock it firmly.

Beomgyu waits for him quietly, letting Yeonjun lean against him as they make their way to the bedroom this time, shutting the door right behind them firmly. When the older boy flicks on the switch, the bulb hanging over their heads doesn't light up. It doesn't matter how many times he hits the switch, the light is no longer illuminating the room. 

"It's fine." 

The dark haired male answers as he weakly walks over to his bag, pulling out a crinkled black shirt and sweatpants. "I'm taking a shower first, okay?" Beomgyu calls out to him and Yeonjun quietly nods his head in response, watching as the younger boy discards his bloodied shirt. The cuts running along his arm and even down his back are evident against his skin, as well as the faint cut against his cheek. But Yeonjun doesn't say anything else, only turning his head away as Beomgyu slips out of the room to head to the bathroom. 

Yeonjun sinks down onto the bed, curling up on the sheets as he lets tonight's events shift through his head. He's more tired than ever but somehow, he can't find it in himself to fall asleep. He stares at the wall before him, his features void of any emotions. Tonight is nothing but filled with anxiety and paranoia, the weight of his emotions laying upon his shoulders like the world is slowly being passed onto him so he can carry it. But when he hears the soft sound of the shower being turned on through the wall, he finds himself sinking further onto the sheets, taking comfort that he knows that Beomgyu is here. 

It's worth it, isn't it? That he went through that tonight so he can save Beomgyu? 

But the more his thoughts drag themselves back to tonight's situation and how Beomgyu is caught in the middle of a shootout — who knows what else may happen to him? And the way that Yeonjun is in a corner of Seoul that he wasn't familiar with and yet, the man knew exactly who he was and what happened to him before. 

What's to say that they won't chase after Beomgyu this time around? 

Yeonjun doesn't know how long he laid there, eyes focusing on the bumps of the concrete wall until he hears the soft pattering of feet against the floor. Beomgyu slips into the bedroom, donning on the black shirt and sweatpants that he picked out a moment ago. His damp strands are brushed away from his forehead as he settles down on the edge of the bed.

The blue haired boy doesn't say anything, only pushing himself from the bed as he heads over to the drawer. He dips his head low to glance beneath the table, drawing out the first aid kit before he settles right beside Beomgyu. He can see the way the younger male eyes him and the kit for a moment before he turns around and lifts his shirt to expose the wounds on his back and down his arm. 

"Does it still hurt?" 

Silence only answers him for a second before Beomgyu nods his head, his reply coming out as a murmur. "Yeah, it does." 

Yeonjun rises from the bed, heading outside to head over to the bathroom. He stands in front of the sink, calming down the way his heart is racing beneath his chest as he carefully washes his hands under the running water. His fingers are shaking again and it takes a minute before he finally feels himself calm down, shutting off the sink.

He pats his hands dry with a towel, taking another clean towel before he heads over to the younger boy. Beomgyu is still there, hunched over and waiting for him. He settles right beside him, making sure that the wound is as clean as it can be. He gently pats the areas dry, brows furrowed slightly before he takes the cream in his hands to start applying it along the wounds.

Beomgyu only elicits a wince every now and then before he doesn't say anything else, head buried in his palms to muffle the sounds. Even when it still slightly stings, it's comforting to feel Yeonjun's warm hand against the small of his back, checking to see if he's doing all right. He hears the rip of the bandages and the way Yeonjun gently plasters the wounds with them, a sigh falling from his lips. 

"You should've been careful, Beomgyu."

There's a strange coldness wrapped around Yeonjun's tone and Beomgyu finds the corners of his lips curving downwards. Worry tinted his features as he rolls down his shirt, glancing at Yeonjun. He can see the way the older boy takes in the sight of the red line across his cheek before he heaves a sigh, patting the towel gently on the skin to make sure it's dry. 

The cream is cold against his skin as Yeonjun presses the pad of his finger against the wound, making sure that every part of it is covered. He watches as Yeonjun tears open another bandage, his touch still fleeting and soft as ever as he lays it across his cheek. 

"Make sure to check your wounds every now and then. You don't want them to get infected."

It's as if there's a flicker of emotions that Beomgyu didn't know existed because now, Yeonjun is cold all over again. He can't even lift his eyes from the ground as he packs up the supplies into the kit, standing from the bed to slip it back to where it was originally hidden. Beomgyu finds himself frowning even more though he speaks, hopefulness wrapping itself around his words.

"You're going to be here to take care of me too, right?"

Beomgyu didn't know why but he can feel the desperation crushing his lungs, drawing his breath away as he gazes at Yeonjun's back. The older boy stands in front of the table, a hand placed on top of it but he knows that his features are void of emotions again. When he glances over his shoulder, his eyes are empty and lifeless, as if the exhaustion has finally taken over him.

"Yeonjun?"

He calls out, not quite accepting the reason why Yeonjun is suddenly pulling away from him. There's a lingering fear of what is to come — he didn't want to hear the words fall from Yeonjun's lips. He knows that at one point, this would come but right now, he wants them to be okay.

Beomgyu  _ needs _ them to be okay.

"Yeonjun?" 

"Beomgyu," His voice is quiet and soft as a murmur. When he turns to Beomgyu, there's a flicker of sadness etched across his features, "Didn't I tell you not to be too trusting?" 

He remembers the weight of those words when they first met — Beomgyu can vividly remember the way the desperation clawed itself around the spaces of his ribcage, no longer giving him any more thoughts of him hesitating to reach out to Yeonjun. He remembers the way Yeonjun gazed at him back then with incredulity and disbelief, especially for someone who had a knife pressed against his throat. 

But now, Yeonjun's words feel more like the cold water pouring itself over his head, the realization falling still inside of him. He doesn't say anything, getting lost in his sea of memories. He fails to see the way Yeonjun had stepped closer again, settling right beside him. The way there's a shift of movement right beside him and the way he can feel Yeonjun's fingers barely grazing against his own — it's enough for him to feel his heart sink right into his chest. 

"Look at where you ended up," Yeonjun's voice is shaky, his teeth briefly sinking onto his lower lip as he turns his head the slightest with a low sigh, "Your life is going to be on edge every single day after this. You'll have nowhere else to go to if you still choose to stay in Seoul."

"You're with me, aren't you?"

When Yeonjun spares him a glance, he can see the way the stars still haven't faded away from Beomgyu's eyes. But every little star is slowly going dimmer — he doesn't know if he can stand to see the day when he doesn't see his eyes no longer lighting up in happiness because of him.

"You're putting yourself at risk if you stay with me."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Yeonjun hates it. He has always hated how stubborn Beomgyu is. He used to stick so strongly to what he used to believe and seeing him now, getting more and more attached to Yeonjun with each day that passed by them, it hurts even more. Yeonjun used to admire him for it but now, the thought of Beomgyu being so stubborn to the point that he doesn't care if he'll get hurt — the guilt would sink its claws upon Yeonjun's chest every night if something ever happens to him.

It's so difficult to let the words slip by his tongue but he needs Beomgyu to hear it. He needs him to listen to his voice right now. 

"Not for me." 

"What?" 

The stars in Beomgyu's eyes are losing their light, fading away in the growing darkness within him. Yeonjun doesn't even have the strength to raise his gaze from the floor, afraid that he would break down if he sees the hurt on Beomgyu's expression. He has always been a little too broken when it comes to him, knowing that he would give in if it meant making the younger boy happier than ever.

"You need to go, Beomgyu." The words lay themselves upon his lips and they sting, like a shard that drags against his mouth. Every syllable feels like there's another shard that pierces through his chest every time he speaks. "You can't stay here anymore." 

"No," Beomgyu is taken by disbelief, shaking his head repeatedly as he reaches out. His fingers circling around his arm and it hurts even more when Yeonjun sees the desperation etched on his expression. "No, no, please. I don't want to go, Yeonjun."

A sob spills from his lips, his body shaking fervently as he pushes himself to sink right into his arms. Yeonjun doesn't let a flicker of an emotion cross his features, not trusting himself right now. He lets Beomgyu curl up in his arms but he doesn't hold him, his teeth sinking so hard onto his lower lip that he can feel the sting once the skin breaks and the blood laying upon the tip of his tongue.

"Yeonjun," His voice comes out shaky as he raises his head, tears running down his cheeks. "Why are you pushing me away? Please don't push me away again."

The blue haired boy jerks away so hastily that Beomgyu ends up feeling empty when he feels the way Yeonjun leaves his side. His body is shivering so hard that he has to wrap his arms around his own frame, keeping himself upright whilst Yeonjun steps away from him. The way he distanced himself so fast leaves an ache running through Beomgyu, his eyes fixated on the older boy in search for any reassurance. Even a little would be enough for him right now.

"Do you think this is easy for me?"

Yeonjun speaks and when his voice slips by his mouth, it's heavily tinted with frustration and sorrow as he runs his fingers through his blue strands. It's breaking him apart — the thought of losing Beomgyu but he can't say it out loud. He can never say it out loud from now on.

"I've spent so many years, Beomgyu, not relying on anyone else but myself. I was completely fine with being alone because that was so much easier for me," Yeonjun hates how he's becoming more vulnerable, sinking down onto the floor as he tears up, hearing the way his heart breaks itself as it rams against his ribcage. "I didn't need anyone and nobody else needed me. I was so convinced that I'm nothing but a bad person that deserved to burn in hell for everything that I've done."

Beomgyu falls silent at his words, watching as Yeonjun sits away from him, back pressed against the wall with his knees pressed against his chest. He looks so small, so fragile that the younger boy becomes worried that he might break him.

"Do you know why," He murmurs, his eyes becoming distant as he stares straight ahead. The exhaustion wraps itself around his body, like a blanket that laid itself upon his shoulders. "Do you know why it hurt so much when you called me a criminal?"

The quietness only serves as a response to him but Yeonjun willingly takes it without any complaint.

"Because you were to be the only one that didn't look at me like that. You were the only one that didn't make me feel like I'm completely worthless, like a sinner that can never repent for my sins."

"I felt like I could stop what I was doing because for the first time in my life, I wanted to be better. For myself and for you." 

Beomgyu stares at him — he gazes at everything that Yeonjun used to be and everything that Yeonjun is right now. 

Right now, he's broken and vulnerable. In need of someone who can remind him that he'll be okay, no matter what happens. 

Wordlessly, Beomgyu walks over to him and he sinks right onto the floor to sit beside him. He gently wraps his arms around the older boy and he can feel the way Yeonjun stiffens for a moment before he finally lets his body curve against Beomgyu's frame. He fits his face against the junction between the younger boy's neck and shoulder, his eyes falling shut as he steadies his breathing.

They stay like that for a long stretch of a moment — Beomgyu's fingers soothingly running down his back as Yeonjun tries not to let his thoughts and emotions take control of what he needs to do. Everything about Beomgyu feels so much like home that Yeonjun knows that his heartstrings would be severed if his home would leave him.

Where else would he go to this time?

"Yeonjun," Beomgyu's voice is soft and serene, like a lullaby that Yeonjun loves listening to. He only tightens his hold around the younger boy, his heart crashing through his chest when Beomgyu speaks again, his voice laced with nothing but fondness for him.

"You're not a bad person, okay? You're not bad." He whispers and his words feel like a calming wave colliding within Yeonjun's body, his thoughts falling silent for a moment as he listens to him.

"Nobody deserves what you went through before. I'm sorry that you had to go through that. You didn't know what it's like to love and be loved like you deserved." He pauses and he lets the silence stretch itself once again, like an echo that resounds within the bedroom. "I've seen how much you tried to change and I'm so, so proud of you, Yeonjun. You're trying your best and that's enough."

Yeonjun can feel the intensity of the emotions coursing through his body and it hurts. Everything hurts right now and he can no longer suppress what he truly feels for Beomgyu right now. 

He's in love with him. So,  _ so _ in love with him.

"Gyu," The little nickname slips by his lips as he pulls away from the younger boy's arms. He catches sight of the sadness that etched on his features as he lays his back against the wall. He can feel the rough surface against his skin but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything else anymore — he only wants Beomgyu and nobody else.

"I don't want you to go. I don't have anyone else." He sounds broken and his heart tears itself apart even more when he feels the way Beomgyu shift closer to him, laying his head on his shoulder. Their fingers barely graze against each other but still, Yeonjun feels the warmth run its course through his veins. 

As they stare at the wall in front of them, they let the moonlight illuminate their faces. The vulnerability that they can never show to anyone else but only to each other. 

"I only have you, Gyu." 

And Beomgyu knows that so well. Even then, he can feel the weight of the unsaid words that have hung themselves in the atmosphere.

(Yeonjun, I think I'm in love with you.) 

A saddened smile graces his lips when he feels Yeonjun's own words continue to rest right in between them. Like an ache that tugs on his heartstrings. 

(Beomgyu, you need to go.) 

And Beomgyu knows that he's right. 

* * *

(When the sun rose over the horizon, Beomgyu could feel the way Yeonjun tightened his hold around his body. A way for him to feel the warmth that he had grown fond of for the past months. The feeling of Beomgyu's body was always comforting, like a safety net that wrapped tightly around his body, reminding him that he was home.

And after that moment, he would no longer feel at home; he would only feel the coldness laying upon his bones once Beomgyu lets the door fall shut behind him. And the thought alone was enough to send the hurt bursting through Yeonjun's chest as he held him so close that he was sure that Beomgyu could feel the way his heartbeats intertwined with his own.

He loved him beyond anything else in this world.

What was he supposed to do?

Yeonjun was left alone when Beomgyu finally pulled away so he could fix his things, taking them outside without another word. He knew that it was Beomgyu's way of trying not to break down from being separated from him again. 

When Beomgyu was right outside of the bedroom door, Yeonjun quietly drew out a piece of paper and pen from the drawer, settling right in front of it. He casted a glance at the door, his heart falling once again in his ribcage as he heard the faint click of the pen. 

Without holding himself back, he allowed the pen to scratch against the paper, letters and letters spilling from his fingers. The words flowed so easily, like all the emotions that he had been suppressing for so long have finally spilled right onto the paper. 

With one last stroke of the pen, he heard another click from the pen as the tip disappeared. He stared at the paper riddled with marks, the words digging onto the paper. Yeonjun could feel the curve of a smile drawn across his lips, his heart ripping itself apart once again. He quietly folded the paper, feeling the weight of his own words against his palm. 

"Yeonjun?" 

He gazed at Beomgyu and he saw him with the strap of his bag tightly clinging around his fingers. Yeonjun stood there, the letter creasing a little in his grip. 

"Here," Yeonjun reached out, holding the letter out for him. Beomgyu hesitated before he stepped forward, taking the paper and letting his fingers feel the way the letters had dug themselves against the paper. There was a streak of sadness on his features and it hurts all over again to see him so upset. 

"I guess this is it."

"It is." Yeonjun stood there, his breath stuck in his throat as his heart broke all over again in his ribcage. He stepped forward and Beomgyu mirrored him, hurrying over to collide into his arms once again. Yeonjun felt the way Beomgyu's fingers grip the back of his shirt and the way he buried his face on his shoulder, a shaky sigh falling from his lips. 

He didn't want to be selfish but he couldn't help it — he willingly indulged himself in the feeling of Beomgyu's warmth for one last time. He knew that he was going to have such a difficult time to let him go, to let Beomgyu brush past his body and leave past the door. 

How was he supposed to let him go? 

"Yeonjun." 

The way Beomgyu always calls him out was sweet, gentle, so achingly affectionate. When he pulled away, his starry eyes were teary as he reached out to gently brush away the blue strands from Yeonjun's eyes, fingers dragging against the scar across his cheek. At that moment, it started to hurt in a different way that Yeonjun never understood. 

"Close your eyes." 

"What?" 

"Close your eyes," Beomgyu spoke, his voice soft as ever. He was trying his hardest not to break at that moment, to keep the smile drawn across his mouth. "And count to five, okay?" 

"Why?" 

Beomgyu forced himself to smile even more despite how much the grief was crushing his lungs at that very second, "So you wouldn't have to see me leave." He leaned in and Yeonjun's breath was taken away as the warmth of his body overwhelmed him again. Yeonjun could feel the way Beomgyu's fingers drag along his jaw, cupping his cheeks delicately with a tender smile on his lips. 

"I want this to be our last memory." 

As Beomgyu stepped forward, Yeonjun felt his heart collapse right into pieces within his chest. He felt the softness blanketing over his body as Beomgyu's lips crashed against his own, pulling him flushed against his own frame. He kissed him differently this time — it was soft and gentle, a quiet reassurance that he understood what Yeonjun had been trying to say to him tonight but failed to do so. 

_ I love you.  _

Yeonjun held him close, arms wrapped around his waist and this time, it felt like the desperation had caught up to him. His eyes fell shut, savoring the feeling of Beomgyu's lips against his own, memorizing the way his body felt against his own. He felt the way his heart surges to his throat as Beomgyu trailed a few more kisses, the last one almost feeling like a fleeting touch of their lips. 

"Close your eyes." 

Beomgyu murmured against his lips before he broke away from the embrace. Yeonjun could feel the urge to open his eyes, see the way Beomgyu would smile at him one last time but at the same time, he knew that it would hurt him more if he did see him once again. And so, he kept his eyes screwed tightly, hands falling still by his sides. 

"One." 

The soft pattering of the feet echoed in the bedroom and Yeonjun could feel the way his heart squeezed in his chest. 

"Two." 

Yeonjun could hear the way his heart was slamming itself against his ribcage. The rush of blood pounding so hard in his ears that it drowned out everything else. 

"Three." 

The silence echoed right after and Yeonjun could feel the panic rose to his throat. He heard the footsteps echo once again and he heard the way the door fall open before it eventually fell shut once again. 

"Four." 

The footsteps were becoming more and more faint this time and Yeonjun became desperate to see a glimpse of him again. But even until the last second, he wanted to keep his promise to Beomgyu. 

It's all that he could do for him now. 

"Five."

Yeonjun didn't waste any time — he allowed his eyes to flutter open, taking in the sight of the vast emptiness of his bedroom. His bedroom that he used to think that was fit for him only; it felt emptier than ever. He ran over to the door, the hope igniting in his chest that he would see him again. 

He rushed over to the door, the desperation clawing at his chest once again as he wrapped his fingers around the knob. He turned it and pushed the door open, expecting to see even a slightest glimpse of him. 

But as he stepped out of the room, he found himself in the center of the apartment. Everything felt so empty as his gaze flickered to every corner, to every shadow hidden around him. But no matter how much he tried to look for him, he knew that he would never find him again. 

As he sank right onto the couch, he felt the loneliness wrap its arms around his body. A strange feeling that clung to him — a feeling that he knew would never leave him, no matter what happens. 

Yeonjun never felt so alone before.)

* * *

He rests his head against the window, his bag laying by his feet. It feels nostalgic to see the buildings flicker right before his eyes as the sun pours its light through the window. It's still early, a little too early but it didn't feel like that to him.

Beomgyu didn't fall asleep ever since he got home in the apartment. He forced himself to stay awake, the worry burying itself in his ribcage that every second is critical for him now. If he lets his exhaustion run its course through his veins, he'll slowly fall asleep right beside Yeonjun and he would no longer have the strength to leave the apartment.

They stayed awake together, staring at the window as the dawn started to rise, painting the darkness with streaks of deep orange in the sky. Beomgyu had his cheek pressed against Yeonjun's shoulder, his body resting against the older boy as their fingers brushed against each other. Yeonjun was gentle with him, letting down his guard as their fingers laced together in a loose hold.

He knew in that moment that he was going to miss this — the little moments of peace that he shared with Yeonjun. The quiet stretches of time when their thoughts were nothing but static that strayed away from their minds as they basked in each other's presence. 

It's in those times when he realizes how much he loves Yeonjun.

Until now, he still does.

In his hands, he feels the letter in his palms, his rough letters pressing against his hands. A saddened smile graces his lips as he shakes his head, keeping it in his bag.

_ Not yet, _ he tells himself, knowing that he would only break his own heart if he reads it. He knows that he would only find his way back to the older boy and find him all over again.  _ Not yet. _

Beomgyu doesn't even realize that the bus has finally found its way down the roads in Daegu. The once familiar landscapes right before him, the buildings and houses that he has seen countless times years ago, only fills him with nothing but dread.

He takes a deep breath as he holds the bag against his chest, his heart rising to his throat. Beomgyu can feel the way the bus shifts and slowly comes to a halt when it rolls down the bus shelter. He hesitates for a moment before he finally rises from his seat, letting the strap of his bag rest upon his shoulder as he takes his time in walking down the aisle.

Every person that rode alongside with him in the bus easily slips past him, not caring that the once runaway teenager is finally back to where he first started.

Beomgyu steps down the bus, his throat tightening with every step that he takes. He feels the shiver run down his spine, a quiet reminder of where he'll be at once he traces his way back home. His head is spinning as he tightly holds onto his bag against his body, glancing at the buildings around and the houses that used to comfort him because they reminded him that he was almost home.

But now, the sight of them only fills him with nothing but dread and fear.

He continues to walk down the street, murmuring a quiet prayer to the stars that he'll be okay, no matter what happens to him today. Beomgyu sees the looming shadow of his house, the anxiety twisting right in his stomach as he stands in front of it.

Beomgyu is finally home.

But it doesn't feel like home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be the epilogue. :)


	6. epilogue: startline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (tw : homophobia) 
> 
> Yeonjun makes a promise to him and Beomgyu intends to hold onto it for as long as he can.

The first days are always rough.

Beomgyu sits on the edge of his own bed, the sheets still feeling so unfamiliar to his touch. He stares at the window for so long at times, seeing the flicker of dawn paints itself across the sky — the hues of orange and yellow so bright when the morning twilight hangs itself in the atmosphere. The way the blueness of the skies leaves an ache in Beomgyu's chest that he never knew the reason why he was feeling like that. He watches as the pink seeps through the fading blue of the skies; the dusk is always so beautiful that Beomgyu wishes that he had someone right beside him to see the pretty sight.

He always wishes that it's Yeonjun that's beside him.

The dark haired boy wants to let a laugh spill from his lips, his chest squeezing too tightly that it hurts to breathe. He knows that it's insane of him to tighten his hold on the past that's slipping away too fast from the spaces between his fingers. But still, he's stubborn — he always has been, from the very start.

He knows that he's going to get hurt from what he's doing to himself. But it hurts even more to lay against his sheets and feel the vast emptiness right beside him, wondering what it would be like to feel Yeonjun's arms slide around his body. No matter how much he wraps the blankets around his figure, he can still feel the coldness circling around his veins and bones. 

A stubborn ache that leaves Beomgyu sinking further into his head, his throat tightening as the sobs spill from his lips. It always hurts — it never stops hurting. The ache is always there, waiting and waiting to seize his breath and crush his lungs in its grip. He's always left shaking with his face pressed against the sheets, tears staining the cloth.

Beomgyu had never felt so alone before.

When he crossed the driveway to his house, he felt the fear and dread tug harshly on his heartstrings. He stood for an eternity's worth of a moment before he finally lifted his hand, his finger lightly pressing down on the bell. It echoed all around the house — only a faint sound can be heard before there was a rush of footsteps to the front door.

As the click of the door resonated, Beomgyu could feel the rush of panic through his body, feeling the urge to run away as far as he could. But he stayed still, his limbs no longer responding to his wants as the door finally pushed itself open. He took in the sight of his mother and everything collapsed within him when he saw the obvious devastation that was written across her features before her eyes finally recognized who was standing right before her.

"Beomgyu?"

His name fell from her lips, the tone sinking in disbelief as they stare at each other. Beomgyu could feel the fear still coursing itself through his veins and everything hurts all at once. Did he really act so irrationally by running away like that? What would have happened to him if he never came back home to his parents?

"I'm sorry," He said out loud though he still wasn't sure why he was regretful for. He didn't feel the sorrow that he was supposed to feel — what was he supposed to repent for? But even if he didn't know, he still said them, in hopes that at least his mother would accept his words.

"I'm so sorry."

His words became stuck in his throat, his breath coming out shaky as he stepped away unknowingly. He was shivering and he felt the way the pain circulated through his body, remembering the wounds that were plastered all over his skin. Beomgyu remembered the worry that tinted over Yeonjun's dark, fox-like eyes, the obvious frustration lacing around his tone when he finally finished taking care of him.

Beomgyu misses him already.

He wishes he could say that the moment he came home, he came home to a happy little family. The family that he always desperately prayed to the stars for every single night that passed by when he was a child.

But of course, not all the deepest desires of one's heart can ever be granted.

It was wishful thinking that Beomgyu expected them not to reject him, hurt him in ways that he thought he deserved. They didn't care that their son came home bruised and bloodied — they cared more about the stain on their otherwise perfect reputation within the community.

_ What were you thinking? _ His mother raised her voice at him that same night, her gentle and kind eyes that used to bring comfort to Beomgyu were nowhere to how Beomgyu remembered them. They were dark, filled with nothing but anger that was directed at her son.  _ Did you know what our friends have said about us? We were talked about among our circles that we had a son that was rebellious, never cared about anything, and liked men! _

Beomgyu could handle the insults thrown at him, shrugging them off most of the time. But her words felt harsher, sinking their teeth right onto his chest that it hurts to breathe. He would have sat there without another word but when she spoke about him liking boys, he felt the anger burst through his ribcage. Red was all that he could see that night as he abruptly stood from the couch, raising his voice in a way that he had never done before.

"Yes, I know that I made a mistake! I made such a reckless and dangerous mistake — it was nothing but an impulsive decision. But what's wrong with me liking boys? Why are you so ashamed of me falling in love with a boy?" Beomgyu could feel the rough breath leave his lungs as he stepped away. He harshly rubbed his eyes, drawing in another breath as he stared at his parents with so much anger at what they have done to him.

He couldn't hide the disgust that wrapped itself around his bones, teeth sinking onto his lower lip as his eyes became downcast. "I know I made a mistake but you didn't have to reject me like that."

Beomgyu could hear the way the scoff fell from his father's lips before he spoke up, "This is nothing but a phase. Once you meet the girl that you're meant to be with, you'd realize that whatever you're feeling right now is nothing."

"This isn't nothing,"  _ What I had with Yeonjun wasn't nothing — it was worth all of the pieces of my heart. And I would gladly do it all over again, as long as I end up back to him. _

He didn't say anything, eyes only falling shut as he heard his mother tell him to think about what he had done. Beomgyu only pulled away from the conversation quietly, his footsteps barely echoing within the house as he walked up the staircase to head to his bedroom. When he stepped inside, he allowed the door to fall shut behind him before he sank to the floor, sobbing so hard that his body shook fervently. He rested his back against the door, his knees pressed against his chest as he buried his face in his hands.

The days that followed by were nowhere near to being better.

He's forced to take the rest of the year off, to help  _ straighten you out _ . Beomgyu only allowed a scoff slip by his lips when he heard the words slip by his mother's mouth — he knew that she had purposely used the phrase with malice. He didn't care enough, brushing off her insults and her attempts to once again lead him to girls that he'll never be interested in.

On some days, it becomes harder to ignore her harsh words and his father's stern glare burning on his back. He finds himself more exhausted whenever he has to endure an entire day's worth of insults — he wishes that they'll go back to ignoring him instead. It's better that way; at least they can never speak anything against him and who he's still in love with.

And on those days, he finds himself sinking down on his desk, legs pressed against his chest as he holds onto the letter. It's been months — too many months have passed by already but even then, Beomgyu has never gotten the courage to seep through his veins. Feeling the rough bumps of the paper that were made with the hasty strokes of the pen was enough for Beomgyu to feel his racing heart fall into a calming beat.

He quietly counts the way his breath leaves his lips in a steady pattern with the curves and lines of the letters. It always hurts because he can feel every word that's already piercing right through his chest, rendering him breathless.

Beomgyu remembers the night he left him — the way he held Yeonjun so close that he almost didn't want to let go of him. He knew that it was hurting Yeonjun to not see him one last time, to count out loud with a shaky voice, knowing that Beomgyu was going to leave him in the end.

It hurt so much more than anything else to see the way Yeonjun felt farther away from him with every step he had taken back. When he heard the word three spill from his lips, he could feel the way his heart ached, squeezing so painfully tight. He stood there, a hand on the doorknob and when he casted a glance at him, he saw the flicker of hopefulness on Yeonjun's expression.

The idea that maybe Beomgyu might stay with him after all.

But he had to leave — even when it hurts even more to turn his back on him and not take a glimpse over his shoulder. The knob felt cold as he tightened his hold around it, twisting it and pushing the door open before he quietly stepped out. The door fell shut and without another word, he slowly walked his way out of the apartment.

He didn't stop walking even if his thoughts were drifting away from his fingers, his footsteps heavy against the pavement. It was four thirty in the morning and he shouldn't feel like the world was going collapse in his grip but there he was, a piece of his heart falling to the ground with every step he took. Beomgyu felt the crushing sadness through his chest, drawing his breath away as he sunk to the ground. The sadness was overwhelming, tugging away on the spaces of his ribcage and making itself home.

His emotions crashed within him and for once, he finally surrendered himself to what he truly felt. Sobs spilled from his lips and his entire body wouldn't stop shaking as he cried out.  _ It hurts _ , it's the only thought that ran through his head at that very moment and nothing else circled in his mind other than _ it hurts, it hurts so much. _

Apologies fell from his lips like a prayer — he apologized for making too many reckless decisions. He was regretful for all the merciless mistakes that he had done, that he broke so many hearts of the people who cared about him for the past months. And he was sorry to Yeonjun.

He was so sorry to the boy who willingly allowed him to take up the spaces left in his chest, even if he knew it was going to break up. Even if he knew that once Beomgyu made himself home in the shards of his life, he still loved him without any doubts and hesitations.

(Beomgyu was so, so sorry that he never told him that he loved him back.)

As he lets the paper press against his palm, his breath falling in sync with curves and lines of the letters, he feels the comfort blanket over his body. These words might be the last words that Yeonjun will ever say to him and the thought that their paths may never cross again leaves Beomgyu with a sinking feeling. All the regrets that he had been suppressing so far will come spilling out, pressing down on his shoulders as he curls up against his own body.

Without another word, he lets the letter slip back into his drawer.

_ Later _ , he quietly murmurs to himself as he finds himself sinking back onto the sheets, curling up beneath the blankets.  _ I'll read it later. _

(The letter always remains unread, sitting at the bottom of the drawer.

Beomgyu can never find the courage to read it.)

That's how his days have passed by — watching the dawn rise until the dusk slowly paints itself across the skies. He sits by the couch, feeling his stomach twist whenever the news comes on. Flickers of criminals flash on the screen and the thought of  _ they deserve it, they deserve to be punished _ pass through his head like a lingering habit before he feels everything crash within him.

He remembers Yeonjun. He remembers the blue haired boy whose name is whispered among the streets; the reputation of being merciless is always trailing after the syllables of his name. Beomgyu could have believed them — he had seen how the emotions could pull Yeonjun deep into his memories and thoughts that he loses all sense of focus and control. 

But he knows the Yeonjun who curls up against his body, too exhausted after fighting with his thoughts and his little bursts of wanting to go back to stealing all over again. He knows the Yeonjun who'll pull him into his arms when he's half-awake after a nightmare, running his fingers down the expanse of his back and murmuring over and over again the words _ it's okay, I'm right here.  _

He knows Yeonjun as the boy who loved him for who he is. 

In how many of those people that the media had painted to be ruthless and merciless criminals were so lost in their lives, that they could not find another way to break through their pasts? Beomgyu always feels the way his fingers would twitch, his heart rising his throat whenever a criminal is caught.

He doesn't know how many times he has prayed to the stars after every night, thanking them that he had never seen Yeonjun's name written across the screen.

What is he supposed to do when he sees the name Choi Yeonjun drawn on the news channel? He never wants to think about how Yeonjun can be caught — that would mean that he would be exposed to the media, every little sin that was burned onto the lines of his palms. Everyone will only see a criminal who deserved to be dragged into jail without remorse, because he's a criminal. No one is going to say that his mother is a victim of being killed in cold blood without any investigation. No one is going to know that he had a gun aimed at him when he was seven, when he was slowly plunging deep in the tangled world of criminals.

No one will ever know the Yeonjun that Beomgyu knew for so many months.

(Beomgyu doesn't like the thought that one day, he might see the word  _ deceased _ right beside Yeonjun's name.

But being away from him, the thought of that being a reality might be inching closer to the truth than Beomgyu could ever admit to himself.)

When he's torn between the layers of dreams and reality, he prays to the stars every night that they'll keep him safe. That one day, when the timing is right, he'll find his way back to him.

He misses his safe place. He misses the way Yeonjun made him safer than anyone could ever make him feel.

It's always Beomgyu's last thought before he finds himself drifting back to his lap, his body curling up beneath the sheets again.

_ I need to see him again. _

* * *

It's been two weeks since Beomgyu had traced his way back to Daegu, his bag weighing heavily on his shoulders with the fear seeping through his veins. A constant reminder to him of what was to come — of what he had to endure as consequences for his reckless mistakes.

Sometimes, he wonders if he does deserve it. Sometimes, he finds himself wondering if he's really wrong for what he had done — even to the point that he questioned himself if he really loved Yeonjun. What if it was only his way of spilling his emotions that he had been suppressing for so long? Yeonjun took care of him with a gentleness that he could never have expected from him but what if all of that led to a false illusion of him falling in love with Yeonjun?

He was constantly buried beneath all his doubts and worries that he felt the need to leave again. Beomgyu couldn't stand being in the same house anymore; he felt so suffocated with every passing second, that running away for a few more hours will be worth all the freedom that he had been chasing after a lifetime already.

That's how he finds himself hurriedly slipping out of the bedroom's window at eight in the evening, his heart rising to his throat as he carefully makes his way down. He sinks his teeth onto his lower lip to stop a cry from leaving his lips once he stumbles onto the ground. The sting from the old injuries on his back resurfaces but Beomgyu willfully ignores it, pushing himself to start running out of the driveway.

He didn't stop — his head is yelling at him to _go back, go back before anyone else sees you._ But he can no longer stop himself, not when he feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he traces his way back to the only other person that he found comfort in for the past years, before he even met someone like Yeonjun.

_ Taehyun _ .

His breath scratches his lungs, forcing him to take a break as he hunches forward, hands on his knees. His head is spinning and he gets pulled into his memories of running so fast the time when Yeonjun collapsed in his arms, so bruised and broken. Beomgyu shuts his eyes tightly as his throat tightens, the hurt tugging on his heartstrings once again. The sight of Yeonjun so broken in his arms was so painful — he never wants to see him like that again.

He shakes his head, trying to rip apart the thoughts residing in his head.  _ He's okay, _ Beomgyu murmurs to himself as he finds himself running once again, the emotions still stirring in the depths of his ribcage.  _ He's going to be okay. _

Beomgyu can feel the way his breath pierces his lungs as he finally stumbles right into the driveway of Taehyun's apartment building. He glances at the entrance, suddenly wondering if he's welcome to be here — he didn't even keep his promise to Taehyun that he'll call him so he can let him know what's going on. What if Taehyun turns him away? What is he supposed to do once the person that he felt like a missing puzzle piece of his soul rejects him without any hesitation?

He doesn't know how long he stood there, eyes flickering from the sign written across the entrance of the building and the dimmed hallway right past the double doors. The dark haired boy tightens the jacket around his lithe frame, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as his fingers circle around the metallic door lever. He gently pushes the door open, stepping inside the rather silent hallway before a hand roughly pushes him back from entering completely.

"Why are you here?"

The dark haired boy flinches almost immediately when he finds an older man dressed in uniform. He doesn't know why he feels the panic surge through his veins when he sees the uniform but he has to will himself not to break down right then and there. He swallows the lump in his throat as he feels a shiver run down his spine, staring at him.

"I'm here to see Kang Taehyun," He murmurs, eyes downcast with his voice shakier than ever. "I'm a schoolmate of his."

He doesn't know how long he would have stood there, if he didn't hear the soft footsteps that resonated along the nearby staircase. When he lifts his head, he finds Kai standing at the last step, cheeks flushed and dressed in gray hoodie and tight pants. He's distracted with slipping his phone into his pocket that when his gaze finally flickers to the entrance, his eyes widen in shock. 

It takes a few seconds but soon, he finally speaks his name with disbelief lacing his tone. 

"Beomgyu hyung?" 

"Kai?" There's hopefulness wrapped around his voice and he's caught by surprise when the taller boy suddenly walks over and holds onto his arm. 

"It's okay, Taehyun and I know him." 

The guard eyes them with a clear reluctance in his movements before he finally nods his head with a low hum. Beomgyu reaches out, fingers grasping the gray hoodie of the younger male, letting Kai lead him over to the staircase. 

"Since when did you come back?"

Beomgyu lets him take the lead as they slowly climb up the staircase, their footsteps quietly echoing within the vicinity. "Two weeks ago," He feels the surge of emotions deep within him as he unknowingly tightens his hold around the smooth, metallic railing beside him. When he lifts his eyes from the ground, he finds himself hurriedly saying without a second thought, "I'm sorry." 

Kai falls still at his words though he doesn't turn to him. There's solemnity in the way he stands there before he finally speaks, voice softer than ever. 

"You know that it's not me that you should apologize to." 

The dark haired boy only falls quiet, letting the silence stretch between them with the soft disruption of their footsteps against the concrete steps. With every step that Beomgyu takes, the more he feels the way his stomach is twisting deep within him as the emotions crash within his lungs. He's afraid — so afraid that Taehyun might push him away too.

He knows he hasn't been the best friend that Taehyun needed but right now, he wants to be better for him. He doesn't want Taehyun to feel like he had forgotten about him — he thought about him a lot and worried about him more than he could count. But he always ended up too anxious to borrow Yeonjun's phone before and call him because he was struggling with cutting off his past in Daegu and worrying about the future that he's about to face in Seoul.

Now, he's back to square one. 

Does he still have a home to come back to?

Beomgyu didn't know that he's diving in too deep in his thoughts, that he fails to see the familiar white door that he had grown familiar with over the years. Kai passes by and he hesitates in keying in the code before he chooses to quietly press the doorbell.

The anxiety is back again — it swirls around his veins and bones and Beomgyu has to take a moment to stand there, catching his breath before he finally pushes himself to walk to the door. As each step collides with the ground, he feels the way his world shifts to a tilt, reminding him of how every piece of his world will collapse once he catches sight of the familiar red hair of the younger boy and his bright, starry eyes.

There's the muffled sound of footsteps on the other side of the door and a voice finally coming through, "Hyuka, I thought you already knew the code—"

Beomgyu feels his heart rise and settle in his throat when he hears the distinct click of the lock before the door is pushed open. He feels the way his fingers twitch at his sides when he sees Taehyun; his red hair is darker now and he's dressed in a loose white shirt and dark sweatpants.

But even then, Beomgyu can see the obvious exhaustion in the creases of Taehyun's expression, the way his bright eyes have lost the light. His gaze falls on the older boy and Beomgyu can hear the way Taehyun's breath hitches, eyes widening at the sight of him.

There's so many possibilities of how this could have gone down. He expected Taehyun to be furious at him and push him away, raise his voice at him for being away for so long. Call him out for not caring enough about his friends who were worried about him so long while he was hiding in Seoul. He expected Taehyun to slam the door on him and never speak to him again for he knows that he deserves all of that treatment and more.

But Taehyun didn't do any of those — Beomgyu feels the way his heart crashes in his ribcage when Taehyun approaches him before throwing his arms around the older boy's figure and pulls him in tight for a breathtaking embrace. No words, no demands for explanations at all as he held him close with a sob spilling from his lips.

"Hyung, hyung," Taehyun grips the back of his jacket tightly and Beomgyu feels himself melt slightly at the gesture, his own arms wrapping around his smaller frame. Even if he didn't ask for any explanation, Beomgyu finds himself speaking up.

"Taehyun, I—"

"It's fine, hyung." Taehyun murmurs and holds him a little tighter than before. "At least you're here now. At least you're okay now."

Beomgyu stands there before he finds himself slowly crumbling as he buries his face on his shoulder. He expected him to push him away but Taehyun only held onto him tighter than ever — the thought leaves him with teary eyes as he finds himself circling his arms in a tighter hold around his figure. There's the warmth that falls in between the spaces of his ribcage and he finds himself holding onto the same words that Yeonjun had once told him.

_ It's okay, Beomgyu. It's going to be okay, I promise. _

Will everything really be okay from now on?

* * *

The moonlight pours through Taehyun's window, illuminating the pristine white sheets that are slightly creased as Beomgyu lays down on them. Taehyun has slipped right next to him while Kai lingers by the door with a sincere smile drawn across his lips.

"Hey, I really need to head home." He crosses the distance between the doorframe and Taehyun's lithe figure hiding beneath the blanket, leaning down to leave a fleeting kiss on top of his head. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" His eyes are quick to fall on Beomgyu, his eyes crinkling slightly as his smile widens.

"You too, hyung," He pauses for a moment before his voice becomes quiet, almost a whisper that Beomgyu could have missed if he wasn't listening closely.

"I'm glad that you're back home."

_ Home. _

Why does that word sting so much now?

He only nods his head in gratefulness as Kai gives them a wave, heading right out of the bedroom. When the door finally falls shut silently behind him, Taehyun glances back at him with the corners of his lips curved into a smile. He reaches out to hold onto Beomgyu's wrist, gently squeezing it in his grip.

"I missed you, hyung."

A laugh spills from his lips before he speaks, "You know that I did too."

There's so many unsaid words between them, so many lingering questions but Taehyun doesn't push him to say anything that he isn't comfortable with saying out loud. The silence only stretches between them as Beomgyu gently presses the side of his head against Taehyun, reaching out to lace their fingers in a loose grip.

"I met someone in Seoul."

A hum is the only response he hears from him so Beomgyu quietly pushes on, his words spilling past his lips like they've been suppressed for so long. Like an ache that Beomgyu had been trying to bury in his chest and now, he can no longer go another breath without saying all of these. 

"The way we met was unconventional and I almost thought that we would never get along. But there was something about him that I always felt so safe with him, " Beomgyu glances down at their intertwined hands and he feels the way his throat tightens, his breath shakily slipping past his lips, "When he told me everything that he ever went to— it hurts so much to even think about it." 

Silence follows after his words before he finds himself speaking again but this time, a little more broken than before. "I loved him a lot, Taehyun. I really did. When he got hurt, I couldn't think about anything else but the fact that I may lose him one day and god—" Beomgyu finds it harder to talk even more, his heart crushing within his ribcage, every piece of him roughly teared away from him. 

"It hurts so much. I needed to lose him but I never wanted to. Am I selfish for still wanting to go back to him, even if we know that it could be dangerous?" 

Taehyun gazes at him for such a long stretch of time before he finally wraps his arms around his frame. Beomgyu didn't want to break down but no matter what he does, he ends up sinking into the younger boy's arms as he seeks for his warmth. The hurt still fills his lungs like glass shards — it's painful to take even a single breath.

"What's his name?"

It's the first question that Taehyun had carefully picked out and Beomgyu answers without a single beat of doubt within him.

"Yeonjun," The name rolls off his tongue and it's like honey that fills him with an incredible amount of warmth. Like a home that he's longing to come back to. "His name is Choi Yeonjun."

"Why can't you come back to him then?"

"He's—"  _ A thief who's used to stealing without a beat of hesitation. A criminal with too much blood painted along the lines of his palms. A boy who's a little too lost, whose name is no longer a name that people would respect. _

Beomgyu sinks his teeth onto his lower lip, shaking his head. He knows that he can trust Taehyun but somehow, this feels like this should be Yeonjun's story to tell on his own time. He exposed such a rare and vulnerable side to him and Beomgyu doesn't want to lose that trust — it's all that he can do to keep his promise to Yeonjun.

"He's someone that my parents wouldn't like."

And that's enough for a look of understanding to cross Taehyun's features. He holds the older boy tighter against his body, running a hand down his back in a soothing manner. He knows that Beomgyu's parents will never accept their son for liking boys and that's part of the reason why they've also given too many side glances at Taehyun.

The red haired boy wants to laugh — Beomgyu's parents must have thought that he had influence on the older male. They've always been like that and it hurts that Beomgyu has to endure through that; no wonder he felt so suffocated within their home.

No wonder he felt the need to run away, to a place where he could experience the starting line of his world.

But why did he end up tracing his way back to home? What happened?

It's a question that Taehyun doesn't ask him. He knows that right now, Beomgyu is a little too fragile to say anything. One day, he'll ask him the lingering question in his head.

Right now, he only holds Beomgyu close to him and lets him rest his head against his chest. He sees the faint scars along Beomgyu's cheek, the uneven bandages plastered on his skin when Taehyun feels the light bumps as he runs his fingers down the expanse of his back. But he doesn't feel the need to question him as of the moment.

Beomgyu needs a home right now.

Taehyun would be more than glad to be a home that he can come back to whenever he wishes to.

* * *

Beomgyu spends a little over two days with him, sharing clothes with the younger boy and having movie marathons on his bed, half eaten snacks on the sheets. On another day, Taehyun would have scolded him but it's been too long since they have crossed paths so he lets him, content to see the smile drawn across his lips.

They don't talk about what happened to Beomgyu for the past months.

Instead, Taehyun tells him about all that happened while Beomgyu was away for too long. With his starry eyes brighter than ever, Taehyun tells him about how he had been working so hard on his research project that he had been awarded with the best research among his classmates. He tells him about how Kai had been nothing but supportive, buying too many cans of coffee and drinking them as they sit on the couch, throwing ideas back and forth all night long. Taehyun seems happy to talk about how Kai took care of him, as the stars remind him constantly that he is so lucky to have his boyfriend.

And Beomgyu listens patiently with a smile curved upon his lips. His legs are pressed comfortably against his chest, arms winding around his knees as he lays his cheek on top of them. His eyes have never left the younger boy, watching how the stars seem to have taken care of him for the past months. Taehyun talks over the film that they're watching for the eighth time but Beomgyu doesn't mind. He never does — most especially now.

Beomgyu did miss him; he missed the way they would stay up so late, talking and talking until they finally fell asleep next to each other with exhaustion running through their veins. He missed how Taehyun always ends up with his arms thrown around the older boy whenever Beomgyu wakes up earlier than him.

Right now, as the dawn rises over the horizon, he finds out that Taehyun still has the same little habit of being so close to him. He gently pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his strands. He forgets that Taehyun is such a light sleeper too, seeing how he easily stirs from his deep slumber as he stares at Beomgyu with his tired eyes fixated on the older boy.

"You're leaving now?" His gaze flickers to the nearby clock, stifling a yawn from leaving his lips, "It's only nearly five in the morning."

"I don't want to make my parents angrier than they are now." 

Taehyun only nods his head quietly, his eyes already drifting to fall shut. Beomgyu hesitates for a moment before he gently runs his fingers through the younger boy's red strands, a tender smile written across his lips. 

"Thank you, Taehyun."

The younger boy must have fallen asleep already because his breathing has grown slow and steady, eyes shut tight. Beomgyu takes another moment before he finally pulls away, his heart surging to his throat as his footsteps echo quietly in the bedroom. It feels like deja vu — to leave someone behind all over again.

But at least with Taehyun, he can always find his way back to him.

Beomgyu sinks his teeth onto his lower lip, fingers gripping the door knob. Twisting it, he pushes the door open and steps out, letting it fall behind him without another word falling from his lips.

Perhaps, it's time that he'll read the last words that Yeonjun has ever written for him.

It's the least he can do for him.

* * *

The day is still dark but when he lifts his head, he can see the streaks of light dotting the night sky. It's comforting to see how the world is accompanying every step that he takes for today. The darkness that used to blanket over him is starting to tear itself apart slowly as the light hangs over his head. 

He wants to feel this sense of peace that has delved deep inside of him for today — he doesn't want to dive in deep with his thoughts. This moment of being alone is all that he ever wanted. 

Beomgyu hesitates once he finally arrives at the driveway of their house. Glancing up, he ignores the way the dread settles in his stomach as he hurriedly checks his pockets to see if the key is still there, as he always carries one with him. He feels the relief flood within him as he takes it out, walking over to the door and shakily inserting through the hole, turning it until he hears another click that leaves the door unlocked. 

It's quiet and Beomgyu hastily thanks the stars that his parents are not yet awake. His footsteps are silent as he makes his way up the staircase, each step leaving him with his anxiety tightly winding itself around his bones. His cheeks are flushed as he traces his way back to his bedroom, looking for the specific corner where he had hidden the letter. 

As he approaches his desk, he tugs on the drawer and the lone letter remains at the bottom, still untouched with the letters marked across the paper. His fingers are twitching as he picks the paper up, letting the curves and lines of every letter press against his palm. Almost like a familiar lullaby that he had grown so fond of for the past months. 

This is it. 

These are the last written words that Yeonjun will ever say to him.

Suddenly, it feels so real — every passing moment that led to this felt more like a fever dream that he thought he could wake up from. But as he stands in front of his desk, fingers gripping a little too tight at the edges of the letter to the point that he left creases on the paper, Beomgyu feels like everything will collapse at that moment. Every memory that he had been suppressing this entire time is going to resurface, like an old scratched up film that he had been nostalgic over for so long. 

His time with Yeonjun feels more and more like a lifetime that is out of his reach. 

Beomgyu sinks down onto the seat and shakily, he gently unfolds the paper and lays it down on the table. He smooths out the creases as much as he can, his heart beating out of control again as he gathers the little bursts of courage within him.

And with that, he begins to read.

_ Choi Beomgyu, _

_ I hope today has been kind to you. I hope that the days that have passed by have treated you the way you've always deserved to be treated — with the love that you've always chased after. I hope the days that will follow after today will continue to be kind to you. _

_ How do I start this letter? I never know the right words to say to you so I prayed to the stars that they'll allow me to be able to say what my heart had always wanted to say. _

_ I miss you, Beomgyu. _

_ Right at this moment, you're outside the bedroom door and you're fixing your things. I can hear you crying, even though you're trying your hardest not to let me hear it. It hurts so much because I feel like I've always made you cry since the moment we've met. Now, I wonder if I have ever made you smile. _

_ But it doesn't matter now — what matters is that the moment you read this, you have already burned every memory of us in the back of your head and you no longer feel the sadness within you. Maybe you'll read this weeks or months later. Or maybe years later, when you stumble into this letter and you might wonder if this is written by an old friend. _

_ I hope that even after the years pass by, you think of me as someone like that. An old friend from Seoul. Someone that you once crossed paths with, when you were chasing after the freedom that you loved. Someone that you have made so, so happy that perhaps, you have convinced him that life is no longer a vast emptiness that anyone can reside in. _

_ Right now, it hurts so much. I know I was the one who told you that you should leave, especially because your life will constantly be on the edge of the danger. And it's all because of me.  _

_ Beomgyu, I feel like we should have seen this coming. This is rather inevitable, isn't it? _

_ There's always someone that leaves first. I first left you when I pushed you away even when my heart wanted nothing more than you. And this time, you are going to leave me with a heart still filled with so much love that is meant for you. A heart that is meant to love you so dearly. _

_ This ending has been told over and over again. But that doesn't mean that it won't hurt — it'll always hurt in the end. Like an ache that buries itself in the spaces of my ribs, constantly reminding me of someone that I once loved without any hesitations. _

_ Beomgyu, you're always going to be an ache that I will love for the rest of my life. _

_ I love you. _

_ I'm so sorry that I can never say these words to you now. Maybe one day, when I have not yet been punished by the gods, then perhaps I'll be given the chance to say them to you. _

_ All I want to say is thank you for coming into my life, at the very moment when I thought I was always going to be seen as a sinner for the entirety of my life. You're the only one who looked at me and held me like I'm someone that you do not want to let go of. _

_ I never wanted to let go of you either. _

_ (I'm sorry that I did.) _

_ Beomgyu, I hope you never lose a reason to be happy. You deserve the world and everything that it can ever give to you. You deserve the stars and the moon — I pray that they're taking care of you while I'm away. _

_ If by the time you read this and you feel the urge to see me one last time, you can always find your way back to Seoul. To the one lonely and decrepit apartment building sitting at the corner, with an even lonelier apartment on the fifth floor. _

_ You can always come back home to me, Beomgyu. _

_ I will always be here for you. I will always be your home. _

_ Please do not forget me. I hope that you can say goodbye to your old friend for one last time. For I will be waiting here for you to find your way back to me. _

_ I love you dearly, my Beomgyu. _

_ I hope to see you soon. _

_ Yours and forever, _

_ Choi Yeonjun.  _

Beomgyu doesn't know how long he has been sitting there. Or the way his cheeks are stained with tears as his throat tightens. Or how long the sun has risen over the horizon, the hues of orange and yellow deeply coloring themselves in the sky.

It's really a new day now.

But Beomgyu sits there, his heart falling right back to the very same day that he had crossed paths with Yeonjun.

He needs to find his way back to him.

it's all that he'll ever want in this lifetime.

* * *

Three years.

It takes him three passing years to keep the promise he had quietly buried in the spaces of his ribcage after that one early morning. Three years of seeing the flickers of days pass by him, thoughts about Yeonjun constantly appearing in his head like a forgotten memory that keeps calling for him. Three years of still feeling that harsh tug at his heartstrings when he hears his name whispered among the streets or among his quiet conversations between Taehyun and Kai, when they think that he has fallen asleep already.

Beomgyu grasps at the opportunity to leave Daegu when Taehyun had to travel to Seoul for a vacation. He had been saving up his own money, working odd jobs every now and then so he can finally leave his parents' home without them sneering down at him for still using their money. He knows that he's going to have a difficult time because money can slip by his fingertips without him noticing but it's better.

This is better than him staying with them as they slowly break him apart every single day that passes by.

He doesn't know how long he would've lasted if he didn't leave.

The dark haired boy stands by his bed, the strap of his backpack hanging from his shoulder feeling heavier than ever. He could have carried so much more but he doesn't want anything else associated with his family anymore — he needs to do this for himself.

He wanted freedom, didn't he? He should've known that freedom comes with a heavy price that he must give up so he can chase after it.

_ It's okay, _ Beomgyu finds himself murmuring the same words that Yeonjun had said to him the day when he left Seoul,  _ It's going to be okay. _

"Are you ready, hyung?"

Taehyun calls out to him, his starry eyes brighter than ever. It's obvious how excited he is — they're going to be roommates for a short while as Beomgyu tries to find a job that can suit him. They both know that they'll struggle but they've always relied on each other since the past years; they're going to be fine.

"Yeah," Beomgyu draws in a deep breath before a smile finally tugs on the corners of his mouth, turning to the younger boy. "I'm ready now."

They didn't say anything else, letting the sound of their footsteps resonate within the house instead as they walked their way down the steps. With every step that Beomgyu takes, there's a lingering pain within him, realizing that he's going to leave his place with no way to come back anymore. Not when his parents have held his decision against him for wanting to move away from him.

At this point, he feels like he's going to walk right past the door without a family no longer waiting for him to come home.

And the thought of it hurts so much.

He falls still at the last step of the staircase as he glances around the corners of the house, wondering if this is going to be the last moment he'll see his world getting torn apart. He can never look at his parents for one last time, worrying that he might break completely if he sees them.

This is for his own good. He's older now and he knows how to take the responsibility for his mistakes.

_ It'll be okay. _

"Let's go?"

Taehyun curves his lips into a smile, gently squeezing his wrist before they walk together right past the door.

Beomgyu doesn't glance back over his shoulder to see the rest of his old life flicker to flames. That part of him, where he had so many doubts and his heart broke itself as it crashed against his ribcage for so many nights, is a part that he'll leave without any hesitation.

He never once looked back.

Everything that follows right after feels like deja vu — the way he walks up the steps of the bus, the way he feels the breath of relief spill from his lips as he falls onto the cushioned seat, staring right out of the window. The way the bag is laying against his leg, a reminder of where he is going after today.

Taehyun had taken the seat beside him and it didn't take long before he laid his head on Beomgyu's shoulder, slowly getting lulled to sleep at the quietness of the bus and the way it drove down the road smoothly. He lets Taehyun fall asleep soundly beside him, knowing that the dawn is already on its way of rising over the line of horizon. Specks of orange and yellow once again coloring themselves in the sky.

Beomgyu gently slips the letter out of his pocket, feeling the same familiar curves and lines of the letters press against his palm. It's comforting to know that there's someone that he can find his way back home to. Someone that had been aching to look for him after such a long, long time.

He hopes that Yeonjun is still there.

He hopes that Yeonjun still loves him just the same. 

With that thought lingering in his head, he finds himself slowly falling asleep — falling right in between the worlds of reality and his dreams. As his eyes fall shut, he finds himself thinking about Yeonjun all over again.

Beomgyu can't wait to go back home to him.

* * *

Staring up at the skyline of Seoul feels different. Like a lifetime of memories lays itself upon his head, every corner tracing itself back to the one boy that he had made a promise to. Beomgyu can feel the ache in his neck as he drops his eyes to the pavement instead, letting the noise of the city lull him into a sense of excitement for what lies ahead of him.

Taehyun stops right in front of an apartment building, hurriedly checking if he has the right address before his face finally lights up. "I think this is the place," There's a bounce in his steps as he walks up to the double doors, pulling one of them open as they step inside the quiet lobby.

Beomgyu feels the ache reside in his veins with every step he takes to their new shared apartment. It feels like a part of him that's going to burst through because this is exactly the freedom that he had been dreaming for so many. And now, it had laid itself against the lines of palm, waiting for him to grasp it and finally take it for himself.

They walk up the steps until they reach the fifth floor, their legs are aching even more than before. It's a bad day that they couldn't use the elevator since it had broken down and was being repaired but it's all right — at least they're here now.

Taehyun is the one who walks up to the door at the far left, glancing down at the keypad before he enters the code that their landlord had given to them. The door easily unlocks, a distinct click that echoes as Taehyun eagerly takes a step inside the pristine apartment.

Beomgyu follows him right after, marveling at the sight of the apartment. It's tiny, fit for just the two of them but they don't mind it at all. This is the most that they can do for their money and right now, they're finally standing here.

But somehow, Beomgyu feels a tug at his heartstrings. A quiet call for him to another corner of Seoul that he had grown familiar with even with the years that have passed by. His memories are nothing but vivid and clear cut, a reminder to him to trace his way back to the one boy that he still loves.

"It's okay, hyung," Taehyun speaks up, letting his suitcase roll over to the center of the room. He smiles brightly at his direction, reaching out to gently pat his arm. "You can head over there now, if you want."

"Are you sure?" Beomgyu glances around the apartment before his gaze finally falls on the other boy, staring at him doubtfully. Taehyun lifts a hand and gently waves it, dismissing the worry that lingers in Beomgyu's thoughts with a smile.

"I'm sure."

It takes a moment of hesitation before Beomgyu finally succumbs to what he wants. With a quiet murmur of _thank you_ slipping by his lips, he walks right out of the apartment, his heart racing beneath his chest. It's as if excitement and adrenaline crashed within him and he feels like every step he takes, he can feel himself getting closer to where he first wanted to go.

He's going home. He's finally going home.

Beomgyu still remembers the streets, the twists and turns that he had to take. He knows how rough that corner of Seoul is — but at this point, he didn't care about anything else anymore. The dark haired boy weaves through the crowd, slipping by the people and whispering _I'm sorry_ whenever he collides with someone.

He watches as the crowd slowly becomes smaller and lesser until there's barely any more people around. And it's still the same — the stores that have been open three years ago are still there. The little convenience store that Yeonjun and he had went to still sits at the same spot, as it had always been.

As he walks closer and closer to the building, there's so many tangled emotions that burst right through his ribcage. The fear, the dread, and the aching longing to see Yeonjun all over again. Will he be happy to see Beomgyu again? Does he still live here, like he did three years ago?

Is he still alive?

The thought passes through his head quickly but Beomgyu grips on it, the fear rising to his throat. It makes him halt, standing near the entrance of the building as the anxiety takes a hold of his thoughts. There's a lingering feeling of dread that his nightmare that he had been suppressing for these past years has come true and he had no idea.

Beomgyu can't stand not knowing — not when Yeonjun might be only a few steps away from him. Despite his body wanting to rest, he pushes himself to walk up to the building and push through the doors and step inside. He's hit with a sense of nostalgia, allowing the feeling to wash over him and overwhelm him so he can drown out every other thought he had about Yeonjun.

_ He's okay. He promised me that he's going to wait for me. _

The dark haired boy clings tightly to Yeonjun's written words of a promise that he had made three years ago. He wishes that Yeonjun had meant every line of that letter because now that he's here, he needs to see him again.

Walking up the steps, he feels the twist of anxiety within him, silently whispering over and over again to himself, it'll be okay. Everything will be okay. Beomgyu feels his heart collide against his ribcage, breaking itself apart as the emotions course through his veins. His heart beats out of control within him as he pushes himself to climb the stairs.

As he finally reaches the last step for the fifth floor, the ache becomes stronger than ever. He's drawn to the same door that was such a familiar and aching sight to him now. His footsteps resonate within the hallway before they slowly recede as he stands before it.

This is it. He's finally here.

It takes such a long stretch of time but soon, he gathers the burst of courage within him as he curls his fingers into a fist. Raising his hand, he knocks against the wood once, twice before stepping back.

Yeonjun could have heard that, right?

With every passing second, the excitement that he had felt is slowly draining right out of him as the fear overtakes his sense. Trying to push the feeling aside, he raises his fist again and he knocks once more, a little louder than before.

But still, there's no answer.

"No, no." He murmurs to himself, the dread now burying itself in his stomach as he knocks rapidly against the door. It can't be true — Yeonjun didn't leave him, right?

He promised him that he'll stay. He promised him that he'll wait for him to come home.

Where is he?

Beomgyu didn't know how long he stood there but soon, he could feel his world shifting to a tilt as it collapsed right to the ground. It shatters into so many shards and Beomgyu feels himself breaking down, not knowing what to do if he loses Yeonjun completely.

What is he supposed to do then?

He didn't know that he had been murmuring Yeonjun's name over and over again in front of the door, like a prayer upon his lips. Beomgyu could have dived through his spiraling thoughts, if he didn't hear the voice that he ached to hear for such a long time already.

"Beomgyu?"

The dark haired boy falls still at the sound of his name. He knows that voice so well — he always loved how lovely his name sounded whenever it slips past his lips. It's like honey that wraps around every curve and line of his name, sounding sweeter than before.

Turning around, he finds himself staring right back at him.

The first thing that he notices is his hair — it's no longer the same dark blue strands that he had gotten used to seeing. His hair is blonde now and even then, Beomgyu finds him absolutely breathtaking. He looks older now, still standing taller than Beomgyu and the familiarity of everything leaves Beomgyu with an ache that he could never abandon.

Perhaps, Yeonjun will always be an ache that he will love for the rest of his life too.

Beomgyu doesn't hesitate; he hurriedly walks over to the older boy and wraps his arms around his body. His warmth overwhelms him so much as Beomgyu buries his face on his shoulder, a sob spilling from his lips. Yeonjun feels like the home that he had been chasing after so long.

Yeonjun has always been his safe place. And he always will be.

"I'm sorry," Beomgyu murmurs, tears staining his cheeks as he pulls away to look properly at Yeonjun. He draws in a shallow breath, his chest constricting. "I'm so sorry that it took me so long to come home to you."

A breathy laugh leaves Yeonjun's lips and it sounds so achingly beautiful as he tightly winds his arms around Beomgyu's slightly smaller frame. He feels as small and fragile as he did three years ago and that leaves a crack in Yeonjun's heart. He didn't know how much he truly missed him until he's finally here, right in his arms where he used to stay.

And now, he can stay for as long as he wants to.

"It's okay, Gyu," The little nickname still sounds sweet as it falls from his lips, his hands trailing up to cup Beomgyu's cheeks, gently wiping away the tears. "I'll wait for you for as long as you want me to." He leans in, pressing a lingering soft kiss on his lips and Beomgyu finds himself leaning in for more. His fingers curl around the front of his shirt to pull him closer, kissing him deeply.

Yeonjun had always kissed him in a way that leaves him breathless and wanting more. And right now, he savors the feeling of his lips against his own, their hearts colliding against each other and finally intertwining to beat at the same quiet pace that they've been waiting for so long. Right now, Beomgyu wants nothing more than to be with him.

As Yeonjun breaks away, his smile widens as he gazes at Beomgyu's eyes, leaning in to press a fleeting kiss on his forehead.

Beomgyu finds himself feeling safer in his arms as he lays his head against his chest. He hears the faint heartbeat through his ribcage, a familiar rhythm that he had always loved listening to years ago.

A forgotten melody that had always made him feel safe.

When he feels the way Yeonjun tightens his arms around his body, he lets their worlds tangle around each other.

Their worlds that have started together and now, they're ending at the same place that they've grown to love over the years — being with each other.

"I missed you so much," Yeonjun murmurs, his starry eyes brighter than ever. 

And Beomgyu finds himself falling for him all over again. 

"Welcome home, Beomgyu." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so first of all, thank you so much to everyone who took their time to read this and waited patiently for the updates! it means a lot to me that you all have given this a chance. every comment and kudos that you guys have left on this story really pushed me to complete this and now, we have finally reached the end! i do hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this. ♡

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! feel free to talk to me in [twitter.](http://twitter.com/yeomgyus)


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